The Maid Servant
by Rastas
Summary: Aefwyn is born a servant in the Marshal's household. In her childhood she befriends Éomer and Éowyn, but is separated of them by their parent's deaths. They are later reunited, but what becomes of their friendship? Rated T for language, part AU. Éomer/OC.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all! This is my firs fanfic, so I wanted to say a thing or two before we got started.

I promised a full summary inside, and here goes: This is the story of Aefwyn and Éomer, who met in childhood in the place of Éomer and Éowyn's birth, Aldburg. She was born a servant, her friends as nobles of Rohan. This is the story of their lives as I vision it, and is very much AU in some parts. I try as well as I can to stay in official book canon, but obviously Aefwyn and everything pertaining to her is non-canon and entirely made up. It's ÉomerxOC and T for language. If a chapter contains mature themes, it will be clearly marked, and I will change the story rating if needs be later.

Please review, and correct my mistakes as I do not speak English as my native language. I hope you'll also tell me if you spot any mistakes about canon. I try my best, but as you know we all make mistakes.

* * *

><p>Éomer son of Éomund was born in the year 2991 of the Third Age, as the firstborn of his parents, Éomund, Marshal of the Mark and Théodwyn daughter or Thengel King. Four years later was born his little sister, Éowyn. In between this time was born a pest he would come very fond of in the coming years, Aefwyn.<p>

In the coming years, Aefwyn became fast friends with the children of Éomund, and if there was a feat Éomer had completed, she strived to complete it also. Aefwyn was a sweet little girl, but if the children of Éomund were ever fond of trickery and bets, so was she. Ofttimes they could be seen in competition with each other over whatever feat they had envisioned.

She had been born of a more common stock than the King's niece and nephew, but that mattered not in their early age. Aefwyn's mother was a serving wench in Éomund's household in Aldburg, but none knew who her father had been. Her mother was certain he was dead, but had no way of knowing for sure. He had in her stories been a Rider in Éomunds service, but none more was spoken of him, and Aefwyn soon learned not to ask. Her mother grew quiet and distant whenever he was mentioned.

Aldburg was the capital of Rohan of old, but when Eorl the Young had made his pact with the king of Gondor, the capital had been moved to Edoras and the King's Hall had been built. The Golden Hall of Meduseld had since been the seat of the King and Aldburg held the seat of Éomund's line, and there sat the Marshal. Aldburg had been built on a hill, shadowed by the mountain range, Emyn Nimrais. The White Mountains were always white-capped and cold winds blowing from the mountain valleys eased the hot summer days.

They spent their time in fun and games and rarely worried about the world outside the Marshal's hall. Of course, their play was in time often interrupted by lessons of different kind, and Aefwyn was sometimes allowed to accompany her playmates to these lessons. She learned the rudimentaries of geography, writing and reading in the care of the tutors of Éomer and Éowyn.

Later on came also lessons she couldn't accompany them to, ones meant for those of nobler birth. In Éomer's case, these lessons were of warfare, and in Éowyn's, of more womanly arts like needlework and housekeeping.

That day was no different from any other, a hazy summer day meant for relaxation and avoidance of duties. Avoiding their tasks was something all three had come very good at, as they had grown older and the world of adults loomed overhead with its never-ending demands. Éomer, who was in his eleventh year had many duties regarding his Rider's training. Aefwyn had also many tasks, suitable for a nine-year-old and supervised by her mother Eadgifa. Éowyn, seven years old, had fewest commitments to her time, but she also had lessons each day.

That day, though, in their memories, would be forever different than the other hot, sunny days of that summer. That day ill news were brought to Aldburg and to Lady Théodwyn, concerning her husband. Éomund, Marshal of the Mark, had died battling orcs in the borders of Emyn Muil. His body was in all suitable haste brought to his hall and a great burial feast was held in his honor.

That day their mother descended into darkness she never rose from, having lost her husband and the father of her children. When autumn flew leaves over Aldburg and the fields around turned golden, Théodwyn was giving up on her grasp of life, and come winter she was bedridden and hollow-eyed. Éomer and Éowyn had too lost their usually cheerful mood and grimness fell over the hall.

When last winter storms held Aldburg in their tight white grip, Théodwyn daughter of Thengel gave up on her grip on life, leaving her two children orphaned.

This was one of the last moments Aefwyn spent with the children of Éomund in her childhood, as soon they were taken to the King in Edoras, and Aefwyn with her mother stayed behind in Aldburg.

Aefwyn stayed behind, teary-eyed. She had lost her childhood friends and what seemed like her childhood in that one moment that seemed to span an eternity. The King's host left a cloud of dust in its wake, and she stared at the slowly waning sight as far as she saw it, eyes blurred by tears.

The children of Éomund did not forget her though, and oft they missed her during their first years in Meduseld. Théodred their cousin grew to be a dear friend to them, but he was much older and was more a mentor than a friend. Both loved their cousin dearly, as he had often been a guest in Aldburg and in their father's house. Théoden King over the years became close to them like a father, but never did the two children robbed of childhood forget their mother's hollow eyes or their father.

Aefwyn spent her days much differently thereafter. Even though Aldburg had now lost its lord and it's noble family, the small city was still lively. What time she had previously spent with her two friends she now spent learning a serving girls lessons, and soon became apt in that art. Her mother believed firmly that once he came of age, Éomer would return to govern in Aldburg and would need them to keep his house in its former glory.

So, Aefwyn learned to cook, to clean and to mend. Her free time she spent practicing in secret in the armory, fingering the blunted practice swords now deprived of their most eager users. Most of Aldburg's garrison comprised of battle-hardened Riders with no need of practice swords, and Aefwyn was left to her own devices.

As years ran forward in their never ending quest, Aefwyn's free time lessened and her lessons grew harder. Her mother not only wished her to learn a servant's work but to also learn to keep a hall. There was little in that aspect to learn in the near-abandoned halls of Aldburg, but her mother wanted her to have a better life than she herself had led.

This brittle peace Aefwyn had learned to accept continued, and the days that in her youth had seem to last a lifetime soon turned shorter and shorter, as they often were to an adult. Never seemed there be enough hours in her day, but she persisted in her lessons and mastered her work as she best could with nothing to really test her skills.

When she fell to sleep at the end of the day she would dream of happier days and of her only friends. In her dreams the summer days seemed endless and her happiness never came to the awful end it had met.

* * *

><p>AN: So, that's the first chapter. I'm as of yet not finished writing the second, but I hope to get it up post haste. This will ramp up quite slowly in the beginning, so bear with me. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ok, here it is. This is a tad bit longer than the first chapter, and I really tried to make it longer. It's pretty hard to do that without getting into minuscule irrelevant details though, when we are talking about grassland for most part of the chapter.

And I forgot to add a disclaimer in the first chapter, but as you probably guess, I own nothing (with the exception of Aefwyn and some of the filler characters) and make no money out of anything here.

* * *

><p>Aefwyn dismounted her horse and rubbed her aching thighs.<p>

She had been riding since dawn, and though somewhat accustomed to horses she had never had much chances to go out riding on a whim. As a servant she hadn't been taught to ride apart from the basic rudimentaries one was inevitably going to learn as a citizen of Rohan. Also, her friendship with Éomund's children had had an important part in her learning to handle horses. The siblings had learned to ride in an early age and were both skilled with horses.

However, Aefwyn didn't completely trust the beast beside her. It was not a big horse as horses went, but a slender mare meant for speed rather than toil. Of course, as a mount in Rohan, it was well trained, but a bit unruly due to its lack of hard exercise in the past years.

Aefwyn was seventeen years of age, and as girls that age tended to do, she possessed youthful grace and her lithe form was yet untouched by years of toil. It mattered not she had worked as a servant for many years, as the upkeep of Aldburg's only large hall was not a demanding task now that it was hardly inhabited at all.

Even though Éomer, who had inherited the seat in Aldburg after his father's death, had come of age some years ago, he hadn't visited Aldburg since he had left there with Théoden King. The halls were all but empty, and none of Aldburg's inhabitants probably paid it any attention at all anymore.

Aefwyn decided it was a time for her meal and let the horse wander a little further to graze. She herself took out her meal, consisting of hard rye bread and dried meat and some sweet fresh vegetables. It was not too filling but enough to sustain her.

While eating she looked over the plains opening around her. The looming heights of the White Mountains were behind her and the young greens of the growing grasses filled her view for as far as she could see. The sky was bright deep blue of summer, with no cloud in sight. Despite the relative warmth of the air, Aefwyn didn't feel hot at all, and felt calm and relaxed despite her situation.

She had left three days before and expected to arrive to Edoras sometimes the next day. She had never thought she'd see the capital of Rohan, as servants rarely left the place of their birth.

Things had changed though, and Aefwyn had left.

Her mother had died last spring, not even forty years old. She had become as orphan as her childhood friends, and much more lonely. She had no siblings to keep her company, and what other servants took care of Éomund's old hall didn't live within its walls. There had been nothing to hold her in Aldburg anymore, so she had taken a horse and left.

Aefwyn was in no hurry to reach Edoras, though. She had taken her time in the journey, but had still made good time with a good horse beneath her.

She had never been far outside Aldburg, and was enjoying the ride. The weather had been good, and the mild early summer sunshine had given her a healthy tan. She had traveled further away from the mountains on the more even ground sparsely dotted by farms and small farmer villages. New green grass reached halfway to her calves and made for a soft scented and comfortable bed at nights.

Aefwyn did not fear the orcs that sometimes made attacks from the White Mountains, as she was a lone traveler in the vast expanse of the grassy plains. Orcs usually attacked the secluded villages closer to the mountains, intimidated still by the éoreds that patrolled the plains. There had been only a few attacks this spring, and Aefwyn trusted her good luck to hold until she reached Edoras. After all, she was still rather close to Aldburg, that held a sizable garrison, and nearer still to an even stronger one in Edoras.

She was not yet certain how to act after she reached Edoras. Aldburg was much smaller than the capital, and most people knew each other by sight. Aefwyn had no idea how to get to speak with anyone who made decisions within the capital, but had thought she'd never learn without trying.

She didn't doubt she would be offered employment at the Golden Hall, as she had been well trained to her duties, and the staff within the Hall was always short a pair of hands.

Aefwyn didn't even think of using her old friendship as leverage. She doubted the royal youths remembered her at all anymore, and if they did, those memories would be long faded. After all, she pondered, Éomer would be 19 years old by now, a man grown. Probably he was finishing learning everything he'd need to know of a warrior's life within some éored. He was unlikely to even be at Edoras.

Éowyn would be 15, and Aefwyn doubted she too was far too busy to start helping out a servant who she once had counted as a friend. After all, the Queen Elfhild had died long years ago, and the Hall needed a woman to look after it. This task would have fallen on Éowyn as the closest female relative to the King.

Aefwyn rose, abandoning her grim thoughts, and brushed the stray grass stalks off her skirts. She wore a simple outfit suitable for a servant, a simple linen dress with laces in the back and a sleeveless shirt over it, also made of linen. The dress below wasn't dyed, the color a natural mixture of light grey and beige. The shirt was on a neutral brown tone, one that rather nicely matched the light brown of her hair.

She wasn't as pale of her colors as most of the Rohirrim. Her hair was much darker than was typical, as most people in Rohan had hair in different shades of gold and yellowish tones. Her eyes were dark blue as her mother's too had been. She wasn't particularly tall, 5 feet and 7 inches in height, and was of a slender build, strengthened by manual labor.

She wasn't all that sure what she looked like: her mother hadn't owned a mirror. Of course, she had many times looked at still surface of water, wondering, but the waters yielded little answers beside the very basics.

She wasn't too hard on the eyes, but had figured she wasn't a magnificent beauty either as men paid her little attention. She wasn't all that sad about that, as she didn't have much interest in men. Her mother had learned a hard lesson, giving birth to a bastard, and had instilled in her daughter a healthy wariness for the intentions of men. Aefwyn had taken her mother's teachings to heart, and paid the men of the garrison as small mind as they did towards her.

With little effort she coaxed the horse to her and repacked the remains of her lunch in one of the saddlebags. Remounting, she took her heading westwards.

Sun was past its zenith in the sky, the weather was fine and Aefwyn felt happier than she had felt in a long while.

She had no duties here, only freedom the like of which she had never felt after being old enough to learn her work. She had a horse beneath her legs, rolling plain ahead and a destination she was excited to see: all in all, life was smiling upon her.

The depressive loneliness she had often felt in Aldburg was fading, the sorrow for her mother buried deep within her heart. This was no day for mourning, she was starting her life anew.

Aefwyn sighed, content. The horse moved with a brisk trot, needing little guidance from her.

The horse and her rider passed small farms and larger villages from time to time, more often now when they were nearing their destination. Some farmers in their fields lifted their gazes to the passing rider, but more often they didn't even look up. She never went too close, not wanting to make conversation with these strangers and they didn't seem too eager to talk to her either.

People were wary of strangers these days. There was a strange foreboding in the air, like a storm rising even though there were no clouds to be seen. There had been sightings of strange men, dangerous men. Though Aefwyn didn't know it, strange things were afoot elsewhere in the world: Sauron's One Ring had resurfaced.

Come evening, Aefwyn reined in her mount in a small valley between two low hills. She dismounted and took of the saddlebags. She took off the saddle and gave the horse a quick brush with a handful of straw she picked up. It was probably not the best one could have done of it, but she figured the horse would get more thorough caretaking in the morrow when she reached her destination. She let the horse again wander off a bit to graze, trusting her steed to stay close enough.

From the saddlebags she took her evening meal and two apples for the horse. While she ate, night started to fall in earnest, sun setting behind the hills. Starts and half full moon gave off their silvery glow, and an owl started hooting from the nearby cropping of young trees.

She wrapped herself in a light blanket and closed her eyes, trusting the darkness to keep her safe.

She awoke a bit after sunrise. The night had been mellow, and her blanket was covered in a light haze of dew. She rose and wrapped the blanket to a tight roll. The rising sun cast its beautiful spectrum of reds and pinks and oranges on the sky, promising another beautiful day.

As she had trusted, the horse was still nearby. She saddled it and loaded on the saddlebags and her blanket roll.

She met the Great West Road soon after she had departed. She hadn't known she was so close to the road, as it was much farther away from the mountains when it passed Aldburg. On the road she and her steed were able to progress slightly faster than cross country.

Alike the previous day the couple made a good time. A bit after her midday meal she saw a faint glitter in the horizon: the gilded roof of Meduseld sparkling in the distance.

As with Aldburg, Edoras too had been built upon a hill. Upon the peak off the hill rested the Golden Hall Brego son of Eorl had built upon it almost 500 years earlier. Around the Hall, low houses lined narrow partly cobbled streets. Surrounding the city was a timber wall with guard towers erected every so often.

Edoras rested near the Great West road, shadowed by the peak of Irensaga in the White Mountains. Near the gates of Edoras the road crossed Snowbourne, continuing westward while the river flowed south to Harrowdale. Outside the city gates were the barrows, the tombs of the kings of old. Upon them bloomed the tiny white flowers called Simbelmynë, or Evermind. They bloomed all year round upon the ancient cairns.

Aefwyn followed the road, craning her neck when she neared the city. It was so huge! How was she ever to find her way there?

Not before long she saw the barrows and the gates, open in daytime. By the gates stood two men clad in mail and boiled leather, sporting the green capes Riders of Rohan were known of. They didn't wear their helmets, plumed with horsehair, but they did have a very threatening pike in their hands.

Aefwyn slowed her horse to a slow walk, contemplating her words. Would the men ask her questions? What would she answer? Would they doubt her and her presence, or would they be helpful? This was the moment it really dawned on her she was so far from everything she had known. Edoras was truly much larger than Aldburg, would it be very different in other ways too?

Bracing herself, she crossed the small distance to the gates. One of the guards made a motion for her to stop, and walked to her.

"What is your business in Edoras?" The man was young, perhaps not much older than Aefwyn. He had a nice low voice and he didn't seem too unfriendly.

"I have come to look for work. I come from Aldburg", she volunteered. The man looked at her, pondering her words for a while.

"That's a long journey for a lonely woman these days." It was not a question but a statement. Aefwyn wasn't at all sure what she was supposed to answer.

"At fine weather, sir, it seemed like no journey at all." She looked at her hands, clenched on the reins. Why was this so hard? Couldn't he just let her enter?

"Aye. Where are you headed?"

"I… I thought I'd go to Meduseld, to ask for work. I worked as a servant in Aldburg." The man cocked his head and looked at his companion. The other man, older than the first, nodded.

"You may go, miss." She nodded in thanks and urged her horse back to a brisk walk.

Judging by the place of the sun in the sky, Aefwyn estimated she had some three hours more until nightfall. Plenty of time to find her way to Meduseld and to locate someone she could ask work from.

The road leading from the gate was wide and paved, unlike some of the side streets departing from it. This was clearly the road she wanted to be following. It wound its way up the hillside into a small marketplace.

At this hour, most of the wooden market booths located in the other end of the clearing were closed, but a few still had their wares at show. Aefwyn didn't stop but continued forward, closer to the stony steps leading to the Hall. At her right was the stable complex, and at her left some larger houses, an inn and a few others.

She tied her horse to one of the rails in front of the stables, and entered the building. Inside, the air was warm and filled with hay-dust and the smell of horses. Near the other end, two stable boys were playing with dice. Upon her entrance, the other one looked up and hastened to his feet.

"I'm sorry, could you help me?" she asked the boy. The youngster strolled closer and stayed waiting for her to elaborate. He had very blonde hair, almost white, and bright blue eyes. This one would have some success with the maidens in a few years time, Aefwyn thought to herself.

"I'm looking for someone who employs help in the Hall. Do you know who I should talk to?" The boy nodded, slowly.

"Aye, that would be Odwyn, the head maid."

"Can you take me to her?" Aefwyn asked. The boy nodded again.

"You're new here, aren't you? Well, you'll get the hang of it soon. It's not hard at all to find one's way around here." He signaled the other boy, who had been watching them, head turned. He got up too, shaking the dust off his breeches. He was a bit younger than the other one, perhaps twelve.

"Take the horse." The command was curt, but not unfriendly, and the other boy hastened out of the stable before they exited.

"What's your name?" Aefwyn asked, a little embarrassed she hadn't thought of that before.

"Grimbold, son of Grimwaeld. My father is a Rider." Aefwyn nodded.

"I am Aefwyn."

The boy started leading him up the hillside. Aefwyn was at first a bit apprehensive, as they were not headed towards the stairs. She decided not to say anything, and let the boy lead him further.

Soon she noticed a paved track lined sparsely by trees. It lead to the right side of the Golden Hall and was in places pretty steep.

"This one will lead to the service entrance. There's a proper road in the back, but this is much faster." Of course, Aefwyn thought. The main entrance would hardly be the one servants got to use. It would be odd in the least to have a King sitting in the main hall watching servants running in and out of the main entrance all the time.

The path ran its winding way to the side of Meduseld and continued there around the Hall. Aefwyn followed Grimbold and tried to keep track of her environment at the same time. With the first dusk falling, this side of the Hall was shadowed.

After a few minutes, Grimbold led her around a corner. There she saw the road the boy had mentioned. It ran down the hill and to the right. Calling it a road was bit of an overstatement, although it too was at least partially paved. It was likely only used to bring goods to the Hall, and was wide enough only for one wagon. The small road ended at this side on a small clearing for turning and unloading. A few stone steps led to an undecorated set of doors.

The other one of the massive doors was open, and within Aefwyn saw a dimly lit corridor with doors on both sides.

"This is the service entrance. That hallway leads to the kitchens. These doors here are the food storages. Most of them are underground and really cool even during summer. I've been in one though I'm not supposed to." Grimbold explained as they quickly took the steps and walked inside. Aefwyn made a sound in agreement.

A familiar coil of worry and anxiety was settling in her stomach again. She was intimidated about being interviewed by the head maid. Her mother had worked as a head maid, but no new servants had been employed in Aldburg in the time she could remember. She didn't even know what Odwyn might ask.

The hallway ran straight ahead of them to another door. This one was halfway open and the familiar sounds and smells of a kitchen reached Aefwyn. The boy ran a few steps ahead and opened the door.

"Odwyn! Can you come here for a while?" This was very informal and Aefwyn blew out a relaxed breath. If Odwyn really let a stable boy call her to him like that, she couldn't be all that bad.

A matronly figured appeared at the door. She was dressed in very similar clothing to what Aefwyn was wearing: a simple dress with a sleeveless tunic over it. Her tunic was of a fine green linen, and in the front was embroidered the sigil of the house she served. She was about as tall as Aefwyn, but weighed at least thrice her weight. Odwyn had her golden hair on a tight braid that rested on her shoulder, and she had a friendly look in her bright blue eyes.

"What have you here, Grimbold?" She smiled down on the boy and then focused her eyes on Aefwyn.

"Come closer, girl. Let me have a look." Aefwyn dutifully took a couple steps forward and stood there for the head maid to have a good look.

"She has come to ask for work, Mistress Odwyn. This is Aefwyn." There was a deal more reverence in the boy's voice now, and the introduction was a welcome gesture in Aefwyn's opinion.

"Have you now? Where are you from, to come at this late hour?" Odwyn gave a signal to the boy that he was free to go, and after giving his goodbyes to both women he scurried down the hall and back out.

"I come from Aldburg. My mother Eadgifa was the head maid there, in lord Éomund's household."

"So why then are you here?" Odwyn's voice had grown cooler now that Grimbold had left, but she didn't seem unfriendly. Aefwyn hadn't expected the question, and pondered her answer for a while.

"My mother died. I was lonely and the hall is empty. I stayed because of my mother, but Aldburg was no longer my place." She smiled, but the older woman didn't respond right away, and certainly did not smile back.

"And what makes you think this is?" A sharp edge had appeared in the older woman's voice. She hadn't liked Aefwyn's answer.

"I was raised to serve, Mistress. I had no one to serve there. Lord Éomer lives here, not in his father's hall. What does a hall without lords do with servants?"

"What does a lord do with a hall without servants?" Odwyn clearly wasn't going to be of any help. She had come for naught. Aefwyn felt her spirits sink. The head maid had seemed like a friendly woman, but she was clearly not enthused about hiring Aefwyn for work.

"I am sorry to have troubled you, then." She dipped to a quick curtsey and turned to leave. Odwyn nodded.

"Go home, child." The head maid's voice was cool, and her hands were crossed in front of her bosom.

Aefwyn left the corridor the way she'd come, and felt tears prickling in her eyes. This hadn't certainly been the outcome she had hoped for.

What was she to do now?

* * *

><p>AN: I really didn't want to make things too easy on Aefwyn, because she is by no means a Mary Sue. Despite this, I'm not entirely sure of the dialogue in the end. Odwyn has her reasons disliking Aefwyn from the get-go, but we'll get further into that later... Tell me what you think, some comments about the dialogue would be a great help!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, thank you so much for all the story alerts! And two reviews, too!

I wanted to keep in mind with the dialogue that Aefwyn is essentially a coutryside girl with very little experience on how to act in a city. Despite her strong determination she was very unsure of herself and her situation when she went to talk with Odwyn. I can imagine being very insecure and frightened, at least after the point where the person I'm speaking to starts to behave as coldly and hostilely as Odwyn seemed to behave.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money off anything. (Except I perhaps do own Aefwyn, in an intellectual way, but I do not make any money off her either.)

* * *

><p>Éowyn walked down the hall towards the kitchens. She usually went there after the morning meal to discuss with the head maid, Odwyn, about various things regarding the household.<p>

She had taken that habit after growing of age, as a duty of the lady of the house. Her aunt had passed away years ago, giving birth to her cousin Théodred. After that, the Golden Hall had seen the care of two head maids, latter being Odwyn. Éowyn suspected that sometimes Odwyn would still have preferred to be in charge alone, but did not let it bother her overmuch. Odwyn had her duties as did she.

She entered the kitchens and took a look around. Three maids were scrubbing the dishes and utensils used to preparing and serving of the morning meal. One maid sat on a stool nearby, mending socks and chatting with the washers. Odwyn sat with her wares log near one of the long trestle tables the kitchen staff used not only for eating but as sort of a communal space.

"Good morning, Mistress Odwyn." The head maid took a look up and hastened to rise, saying her morning greetings.

"No need for that. I think we've come well enough accustomed to each other you don't need to bother getting up every time I enter here." Éowyn sat opposite to the head maid.

"So, is there anything I should know?" The head maid perused her book for a while before answering.

"Yes, we are rather low on some supplies, but at this time of the season it shouldn't be an issue to restock."

"Do you have enough staff? My cousin and my brother are returning soon, and the King wants a feast. I haven't seen some maids in a while, have they resigned?"

"Silwen got married, so she does not work as much now. I got her to promise she will do some work, perhaps washing. But perhaps it is best if I let her settle before I call her back to work", Odwyn explained.

"Do you need to hire more?" Odwyn shrugged a little in response.

"Well, I don't think we have the need for that quite yet, my lady. Although, I did have a girl asking for employment last night."

"Oh? Did you hire her?" Éowyn thought the Hall could use a couple more servants, but Odwyn insisted the opposite. They had this conversation very often, and thus far Odwyn hadn't hired anyone new.

Éowyn was often irritated by the older woman's resistance of anything new she might suggest. She rarely pressed her opinions on Odwyn, though, as usually her requests weren't worth the trouble of quarreling with the head maid. The question of new staff members was one of the matters Éowyn felt was important enough to start an argument over. She had become quite fed up with Odwyn's resistance on the subject.

"No. She has her place and it is not here. An unmarried orphan girl, new to the city; I don't think so. She did not seem suitable at all, and was very evasive with her answers." Odwyn crossed her arms in front of her chest and shook her head.

"New to the city? What kind of trouble could an orphan girl stew?"

"Well, my lady, trouble with the men, for one. That kind of girl spends more time dallying with men than with their work."

"Why did you call her answers evasive?" Éowyn asked. She had nearly blushed at the head maid's words about a young girl dallying with men and had remembered the other reason Odwyn had given for not hiring the girl.

"She claims her mother is Eadgifa, who worked for your lord father in Aldburg. She says her mother passed away and says she'd rather work here than be alone in Aldburg Hall." A faint echo of a memory passed through Éowyn's mind when Odwyn mentioned the name Eadgifa. Whose name had that been?

"I will not hire anyone related to Eadgifa; I knew that woman in my youth and she was not to my liking." Éowyn was shaken from her thoughts at the rather heated words of the head maid. Was this the real reason? And what a reason it was! Éowyn almost smiled before she got her face in check: this was no place for smiling.

"For whatever you dislike this Eadgifa for, I am sure her daughter is not guilty. If this is the best reason you have to not hiring an orphan girl begging for work, I find it lacking. I think you should hire her." Odwyn was about to interrupt her, but Éowyn raised her hand to keep the other woman silent and continued:

"What I remember of Aldburg and of the Hall is that everything was always neat and the food was served on time. If she has learned these lessons, she cannot be a bad servant. Hire her. That is the last I will say of this matter."

Éowyn had learned when to be firm with Odwyn, and this was one of those times. Odwyn held her prejudices firm, but if the Hall was short-staffed, Éowyn would gladly have even a less effective servant to fill in than no servant at all. Éowyn was certain Odwyn would rather do all the work by herself than to let anyone new enter the Hall.

After a quick overview on rest of the matters at hand, Éowyn bid her goodbyes and left the kitchen. Odwyn had not continued after Éowyn had made her opinion clear, and Éowyn hoped the head maid would also see through her request and hire the girl. She felt compassion for another orphan, and as a member of the royal family felt the need to help a member of her people. She felt pleased with herself while she walked away from the kitchens towards the main hall.

Éowyn didn't mind exchanging heated words with a woman perhaps thrice her age from time to time. She was only fifteen, but she'd since the first time she entered the kitchens been certain she needed to be firm and seem older than her years. She had not tried to win Odwyn over, but let the older woman to be stubborn and headstrong. After all, Éowyn also was both of those things.

From her discussion with Odwyn her mind wandered to Éomer's imminent return. Her brother had been away from Edoras for almost two years, learning how to become even finer a rider and better a warrior. Éomer had but one passion, and it was to become the best in his craft he could be. One day, he would in all likelihood stand as a Marshal of the Mark by their cousin's side, and for that moment he had to prepare himself.

When she reached the main hall, she saw Gríma, an aspiring political figure in Edoras, sitting alone at one of the great tables located in the hall. His father had been an advisor to the king before his death, and Gríma seemed to be reaching for the same position. At the moment, though, it looked as if his attempts weren't very successful, as Gríma was not with the advisors by her uncle. Théoden King sat on his throne, apparently going through the details of some decision with a handful of men. The look on Gríma's face was one of contemplation, and the look in his black eyes made Éowyn shiver a little with its cool malice.

By instinct Éowyn shied away from Gríma. She didn't like the unkempt appearance of the man, nor his wandering, sly eyes. The man had made some remarks to her that had made her dislike him even more, but he rarely spoke to her in public. Éowyn hastened away from the hall, not wanting to disturb the men by the throne or to catch the attentions of the lone man by the table.

Aefwyn rose from the soft hay. Her bed was in the stables, where Grimbold had allowed her to stay the night, after hearing of her rejection.

She had cried a little before falling to sleep. Now, in the bright light of the morning, things didn't seem all that grim. She had some money, few copper pennies and even some silver coins with the side profile of an ancient king. They were all her mother had owned, and she was disinclined to part of any of them.

Her rejection still stung. She had really wanted to work in Meduseld, and had got her hopes up during her journey westward. She realized now that it had never been so simple a task as just to walk to Meduseld and be offered work. She had felt very confident about herself and her ability to survive alone, but that confidence had taken a big hit the previous night.

She dusted off her clothes the best she could and tried to pick out all the bits of hay from her hair. Her mood was far from bright, but she plastered on a bright smile when she made her appearance. Grimbold and the other stable hand, Alfhelm, were sitting by the door throwing dice. She greeted them and sat next to them.

She didn't want to think about what to do next, but instead decided to just live in the moment for a while. The boys were friendly enough, but stopped trying to engage her in conversation when they noticed her lack of concentration. Instead, Aefwyn focused on watching the bustling market. The stalls were almost all open now, with people setting their goods on display and trying to lure people in to take a look. Quite a number of women with woven baskets walked around the food stalls, stopping from time to time to examine the goods on sale.

At the same time in Meduseld, Éowyn and Odwyn were having their conversation. Of course, Aefwyn knew nothing of this, and felt herself a complete outsider in this city. The only people she knew were the two boys sitting nearby and the head maid who had declined her employment. Had she known her childhood friend was arguing in her behalf, the day wouldn't have looked half as gloomy as it did now.

She sat with the boys for quite a long time, listening half-heartedly at their chatting. Finally she stirred when she looked up to notice how far the sun had sailed across the sky. It was past midday, and she was hungry. She got up and explained to the boys she'd be back after getting something to eat, and wandered over to the food stalls. Most stalls held vegetables and fruit, and some offered cooked fish or meat or fresh bread. One stall had on offer small pies filled with meat. She stopped by the stall, lured by the delicious smell.

The stall was manned by two women, perhaps a mother and her daughter. The elder woman stood behind the counter and the younger one seemed to be in the business of taking a fresh batch of pies from the oven. There were quite a number of customers, and Aefwyn listened for a while to hear how much a pie would cost. Hearing the price, she decided she could afford a small pie and joined the line.

"I'd like a small pie, that one there." She pointed at one of the pies on display. She held out her clean kerchief, having seen how the other costumers packed their pies in either a piece of cloth or a dish of some sort. The woman gingerly placed the steaming pie on the kerchief and named her price:

"Two copper pennies, then, missy. Let it cool for a while, it's fresh from the oven." Aefwyn paid and thanked the woman. She tied the corners of her kerchief together, so that the pie rested in the little pouch in the middle.

Having accomplished her task she drifted through the stalls back towards the stables. Nearing the stables, she noticed a rider had arrived, and both boys were busy taking care of his horse. The rider was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, and wore armor of leather and chainmail. His helm was tucked under his arm, its horsehair plume brushing his side.

Aefwyn didn't want to intrude and stayed a bit further away. To occupy herself, she opened her kerchief pouch and took a bite of her pie. It was still hot, but had cooled enough to eat. The flaky crust held within a mixture of lamb and different vegetables and the taste was exquisite.

After the rider had left with his saddlebags, Aefwyn made her way back to the two boys, again lazily lounging by the stable doors. The boys waved at her, their faces shining with admiration towards the rider.

"You should have come and met Aelthain. He's a messenger in prince Théodred's éored. He's come to tell us that both the prince and his cousin are returning to Edoras! It'll be a big celebration!" Grimbold and Alfhelm explained, breathless from excitement.

Aefwyn wasn't as excited. These news changed nothing for her. She had nowhere to go and nothing to do. The return of the prince and his cousin changed nothing, not just because she had known Éomer years ago.

Then she saw Odwyn. The head maid was walking towards the stables, looking very dissatisfied. Aefwyn felt a ball of fear twisting her stomach. Why was the head maid coming here? Surely there was no reason for her to do that?

The older woman saw her sitting with the stable boys by the door and stopped in front of her.

"Good day, Aefwyn. May I talk to you for a moment?" There was something very odd in her demeanor, and her face looked like she had eaten something very sour.

"Good day, mistress Odwyn", Aefwyn replied, rising from her seat. They walked a little further away from the stable doors.

"I have reconsidered my decision to not hire you." After this, the head maid was silent for a while, and Aefwyn hardly dared to breathe.

"The lady Éowyn thinks we need more people. She wanted me to hire a new servant, and since you asked for the position, I will offer it to you. But make no mistake, I am not your friend. This will not be easy for you, and I will not make it any easier. This is not Aldburg, and serving the king will be much harder than sweeping clean floors day in and day out." Odwyn looked very stern and her smile was thin and insincere.

"I thank you for this offer, mistress Odwyn. Do not fear, I am not a stranger to work, and I will strive to do my best." Despite the harsh words spoken, Aefwyn felt relief so immeasurable she couldn't have described it. She felt deep gratitude for Éowyn, who had forced the head maid to change her mind, but at the same time she hoped Éowyn had not told the woman that they had been friends years ago. Subconsciously she knew it wouldn't make Odwyn like her any better.

"Gather your things and come with me. Let's get you settled so you can start working." Odwyn turned on her heels and they walked back to the stable doors. Aefwyn rushed in to gather her belongings and bid her goodbyes to the boys, who congratulated her. Grimbold had a wary look on his face; he clearly knew Odwyn was displeased by this turn of events.

Aefwyn followed the head maid to Meduseld by the same route she had walked the previous evening with Grimbold. In full light of day, the route proved to be very beautiful, and to the right opened a wonderful scenery of the White Mountains over the rooftops.

Odwyn showed her a small room with a small window that would be her private quarters and left her to her own devices with a stern command to come to the kitchens as soon as she was finished.

Aefwyn sat on the edge of the small cot, and took a good look around the small room. It held the cot and a small chest of drawers. These were the only pieces of furniture, but both were of a good quality. On the cot was a straw mattress, a quilt and a small pillow with a linen pillow case.

She got up to take a closer look at the drawers, and found the drawers mostly empty. On the bottom drawer were spare sheet and pillow case and another quilt. There was also a small box of candles. There were two candleholders on top of the drawer, but only one held a candle, which was now lit.

She emptied her saddlebags in the other drawers and spread her blanket on the bed. Her belongings looked very few, spread into the drawers, but she consoled herself with the fact that she probably would get a set or two of the liveries the servants wore.

And, she was to stay here for the rest of her days, so she would probably get some other personal effects to decorate the room with later on.

Having finished the task at hand she blew out the candle and headed for the kitchen. Gratefully, her room was quite near, and she didn't have to fear getting lost. When she entered the kitchens, she stopped to take a look.

The room was large, perhaps twice the size of the kitchen in Aldburg, and held two large trestle tables. By the windows were the wash basins and some table space for preparing food. The ovens were at the opposite side of the room from her, the fires making the room warm. There was no one in the room besides Odwyn, who was sitting by one of the tables.

"You're here. Good. Come and sit." Odwyn indicated a spot opposite of herself and Aefwyn quickly sat.

"I will tell you some basic things. Tomorrow you will start your work at earnest, and today we shall take care of your attire." Aefwyn nodded.

"Firstly, you are either on breakfast or dinner duty. Which duty you are on will be told to you the previous day, but most often you will have five days of breakfast duty followed by five days of dinner duty. You will have one day off every two weeks to take care of whatever personal matters you might have. There are also some specific days that are free for you, but of them I will tell you later. You will get two sets of livery and you will keep them clean. The first day of every year you will be given a new skirt and a pair of shoes. A new tunic to wear on top you will get every second year. You must keep these items in good repair."

Odwyn paused here, waiting for possible questions, but Aefwyn only nodded again. This was standard practice.

"Breakfast duty starts at sunrise. At that time you must be here in the kitchen to wait for instructions. That shift will end an hour after midday. Dinner shift starts then, and will continue until all the tasks are finished, usually an hour or two before midnight. Occasionally, during feasts, you will be required to stay until the feast ends."

Here again Odwyn paused for a while, but seeing that Aefwyn still had no questions she continued almost instantaneously.

"The tasks of the breakfast shift are the making of breakfast and lunch and the cleaning of the kitchens. Also, some servants will clean the rooms and hallways of the Hall. Dinner shift will prepare the dinner and evening meal for those who wish it. Also, both shifts will serve the food they have prepared and take care of the dishes. I have a key to the room where ale, mead and other alcoholic beverages are held. In daytime, that door is unlocked.

There are also other tasks that are not performed every day, but those are tasks I usually hand to more senior maids. At first, you will spend most of your time in cleaning and washing. When I find you have sufficiently mastered those tasks, I will give you other duties occasionally. You must remember that it is our duty to serve, and to ask no questions. Ours is a task of unquestioning obedience, and besides the royal family, your loyalty is also to me. If I find you unable to perform the tasks I give you, I will warn you once and the second time will lead to dismissal from service.

Do you have any questions?" Odwyn had gone through her litany of details and rules with precision inherent to a woman taking care of a massive household.

"No. These rules are the very basics of servitude as I have been taught."

"Good. Now, let us go to the seamstress and get your new clothes under way."

Aefwyn followed Odwyn away from the kitchens to a small room lit with six windows. It was the brightest room in this end of the Hall, designed for the repair and making of clothes. In the room were two women, somewhere between their fortieth and fiftieth years. They wore the same liveries as Odwyn, and were busy working on some pieces of clothing.

"Good day to you both. This is Aefwyn, she is new here. Aewfyn, these two are the seamstresses, Ildenn and Sivre." The women nodded in turn. Ildenn rose from her seat and took with her a knotted piece of yarn.

"I take it you will be needing clothes. Mistress Odwyn, let me take it from here. I am sure you have a lot of work." Ildenn's dismissal of the head maid was very casual. She obviously carried a lot of weight in her words, almost as much as the head maid. Odwyn took her leave and closed the heavy door after herself.

"Now. Let's take some measurements. It will take a day or two to finish your new clothes, but these are in nice enough repair to serve until then." Ildenn fingered the sleeve of her dress.

At first both women were quiet, and Aefwyn didn't mind at all. Soon, though, Ildenn started asking her questions amidst muttering measurements. Her manner was one of very little intrusiveness and her questions very subtle. Soon Aefwyn noticed she was telling the other women many things about her past in Aldburg and of her mother.

"Oh, now I see why Odwyn was so sour." Aefwyn had just told them what her mother had done for a living.

"Why?" Aefwyn asked. Ildenn and Sivre looked at each other, as if debating what to tell her.

"Odwyn used to work at Aldburg for a while when she was younger. She was engaged to be married, but that never happened for whatever reason, and she left Aldburg. After that she came to work here, and soon made known how she despised Aldburg and the servants in Aldburg Hall. I bet your mother used to work there then?" Ildenn spoke softly, as if fearing someone might overhear her.

Aefwyn pondered for a moment before saying anything. Her mother had never spoken of anything resembling this, but that didn't surprise Aefwyn at all. Her mother had been good at keeping her secrets.

"It is possible. She became much more unfriendly when I told I was from Aldburg."

"Well, we all know here Odwyn likes to be in charge. Ildenn is the only one who has the courage and position to stand firm against her; among servants, that is." Sivre was darker of the two, and quieter. Her hair was almost black, and fell on a heavy braid down her chest. She was a wiry woman with the long delicate fingers. Her needle flowed graciously through the fabric, not resting even when she spoke.

"Now, come back tomorrow, so we can try the clothes on you and make some adjustments." All three exchanged goodbyes and Aefwyn left the room.

Ildenn and Sivre were very nice, she thought. They weren't intimidated by Odwyn's commanding presence, and had even shed some light on why the head maid disliked her. At times like these, Aefwyn wished she could ask her mother all the questions in her mind. Had her mother really known Odwyn? Had they had an argument over something? Why would Odwyn dislike her over something that must have happened over twenty years ago?

These questions occupied her mind for the rest of the day. She spent quite a lot of time getting familiar with everything in the kitchens and even dared take a small tour of Meduseld. At dusk she went back to her small room and went to sleep: the next morning she would have to wake up very early.

* * *

><p>AN: I wanted to say a few more things here:

I imagine Meduseld to be a very large building. Not only does it have the main hall (which I imagine to be pretty much alike how it was in the movies), but it will also need to house the royal family and other people. It will need to have a kitchen big enough to feed the said inhabitants and the servants quarters also need to fit in somewhere. The view from the kitchens is towards the White Mountains, and the main facade of the building faces roughly to west.

I try to be very authentic with describing the way of life in a community that is pretty much like a medieval society. So, I try not to put in any details that would sound too modern. If you think something is not plausible in this setting, please let me know so I can correct it.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:First off, thank you SO MUCH for all the favorites and story alerts and the reviews! I never thought so many people (or at least some) would like this story! I love to hear from you! *hint hint*

This is going to be my Christmas present for you all :P I'm going away from town for Christmas, and my folks don't have an internet connection :/

Anyway, about this chapter... I ended up writing this in a bit of a hurry, because at the moment of writing this note, I'm scheduled to leave in only a couple of short hours. The end might seem a bit rushed, but then again, I can revisit it later when I have more time. I think of Éomer as a very straight-forward person, who still has very many layers beneath. He does what he must, but doesn't live without care of those he loves. He cares little of men who give their lives to wisdom, as he has given his life to war - perhaps he doesn't quite yet appreciate that both kinds of men are needed. I only hope I can convey him to you as well as I can see him in my minds eye.

Without further ado, here we go:

* * *

><p>Odwyn hadn't been kidding when she told Aefwyn life would be hard for her. All week long Odwyn had given her the dirtiest, most tiresome work she could come up with. More often than not, Aefwyn wasn't anywhere near finished by the time others were. The maids preparing breakfast and lunch were usually finished well before midday, but Aefwyn kept on toiling on her duties at least two hours past the end of her shift every day.<p>

She hadn't thought about stopping when the others were finished, because she knew that would just give Odwyn the satisfaction of seeing her fail. She had washed the slaughterhouse from floor to ceiling. She had cleaned enough chamberpots to last a lifetime. She had actually been taught how to slaughter by the master slaughterer.

That had been the funniest task all week. The master slaughterer was a bulky man in his fifties, with a bald head crowned by wisps of curly gray hair. He had a macabre sense of humor and a fondness to food. He performed his work with skill honed by many years of work, and Aefwyn appreciated his handiwork all the more after seeing the care he gave to the animals he would slaughter come morning. Nevertheless, she was queasy after seeing all the blood and gore and assorted entrails. She herself had been covered in blood spatters from head to toe, despite the heavy leather apron.

The next morning, she had for a while thought Odwyn had had some sort of resentful admiration in her eyes, but that must have been her imagination.

Today, though, Aefwyn had been given the task of preparing Prince Théodred's room for him. He was expected to arrive some time the next day. For that end, the room needed to be aired out, the bedclothes aired and beaten and all the surfaces dusted.

It was messy work, as Théodred had been gone for over two moths this time and the room was very dusty. She had sneezed perhaps a dozen times only within the first ten minutes within the room.

Even though Odwyn kept rigorous command on the servants of the hall, Théodred's room hadn't been cleaned in his absence. This was perhaps an indication that Odwyn didn't want to waste manpower to a work that would need to be repeated quite a many times before his return, or a showing sing of the lack of workforce that had forced Odwyn to hire her in the first place.

Perhaps this assignment was also a sign that Odwyn had decided she wouldn't quit just because the work was sometimes less than appealing. This was very much wishful thinking, as Odwyn seemed like a woman to keep her grudges.

Aefwyn was doing good time when Odwyn entered.

"I see you are almost finished here." The head maid looked around, appraisingly.

"I have another task for you when you are finished. It will be very urgent." Aefwyn cocked her head, and knew her face must have portrayed the question in her mind when Odwyn continued.

"I just heard that lord Éomer will be arriving already today. The work in his room hasn't even been commenced. I want you to clean it as well." A half-formed objection crossed Aefwyn's mind, but instead she just curtseyed in acquiescence.

"As you say, mistress." Odwyn nodded and left the room. Only after she had left, questions started to buzz in Aefwyn's head. Why hadn't anyone else been assigned Éomer's room? Had this been intentional?

The questions would do very little good in her current predicament, so Aefwyn abandoned that trail of thought and redoubled her efforts. In fifteen minutes, everything was in order and the room was as clean as it would ever be. All the surfaces were spotless and carpets, wall hangings and bedclothes had been thoroughly aired and beaten.

Aefwyn closed the door behind her, rubbing her aching back, and turned down the corridor toward Éomer's chambers.

Opening the door, she sighed in exasperation. Clearly, this room had not been cleaned ever since Éomer had left. It was a mess.

As she remembered it, Éomer had never been the tidiest individual, and clearly, his departure had been hasty. Every surface available, including parts of the floor, was covered with scattered clothing and his other personal belongings. All of this was also covered with a layer of dust visible even from the door.

All this made Aefwyn almost want to cry and give up. Her pride didn't allow her to, though, and letting out another sigh she got to work. She picked up all the clothes on the floor and threw them on the bed. It produced a sizable heap. Going through and sorting the clothes wouldn't be a menial task in itself, but to clean the rest of the room too meant that she would be doing this well past supper.

If only Éomer wouldn't come before she was finished, or there would be no end to hearing of this. She knew that if she was not finished, Odwyn would see it as a failure on her part and would treat her accordingly.

She opened the curtains and pushed open the windows. Daylight streamed into the dim chamber, lighting the small particles of dust she had stirred from the floor. At least now, the floor was clutter free. That could not be said of the rest of the room, though, and so she set to work. She swept and washed the stone floor, carrying the carpets out and beating them until the bright, colorful patterns seemed like new.

She also carried out the wall hangings and curtains and gave them too a good beating. She left them out to air and returned inside to sort through the clothes. Luckily, most were clean and she folded them neatly before putting them away. Dirty clothes and the sheets she took to be washed, and returned back with a stack of Théodred's clothes she had taken out earlier. She took them to Théodred's chamber and replaced them into the armoire.

Back in Éomer's room, she set out to clean the rest of the surfaces. This took quite a lot of time, as every surface was covered with small mementos, candelabras, maps and books. She dusted every artifact and the tabletops and tried to figure out whatever order they had had before having been scattered about.

Four hours had passed with Aefwyn at work. She left the room to have a meal. She had missed both breakfast and lunch, and was determined not to miss out on dinner too. Back in the kitchens, most other maids had already finished eating, but there was still a large kettle warm over the fire. She took a healthy bowlful of stew and a few slices of fresh bread. With a cup of mead, she sat down to enjoy her meal.

Halfway through, Odwyn entered.

"Have you finished your task?"

"Not quite yet, but the room is almost finished. I just need to carry the bedclothes and wall hangings back in and I'll be finished." Odwyn's lips pursed.

"What time is this to eat, then?"

"I have not yet eaten today, mistress. Surely you do not expect me to work with an empty stomach this far past my shift?" She regretted the words right after they left her lips, but there was no taking them back.

"Surely I expect you to finish your task. What if lord Éomer was to return now with his room only halfway cleaned?" Aefwyn didn't want to add oil to the fire by repeating that she was almost finished. She felt the older woman had gone a bit too far this time, but complaining would not help her cause.

"I am sure he would understand that even servants must sometimes eat." This was said very quietly from the door. They both turned to look, and saw the lord Éomer standing there. He was still dressed in his travel-stained Rider's regalia, his helm tucked under the crook of his arm.

"What ever has the girl done to you, mistress Odwyn? I would not want to come home to find a fainted, malnourished servant in my rooms either." Odwyn had curtseyed deeply, having recognized the king's nephew. Aefwyn had also scrambled to her feet, trying very hard to suppress her thanks for this rescue.

"Let her finish eating, she may then go and finish the room. Meanwhile, I would like to have a bite to eat." He nodded to them then and left, expecting his wish to be obeyed. Odwyn hastened to fill a tray with food and to have a girl take it out to the hall.

Aefwyn finished eating soon after the incident. She took a detour to take with her the pieces of fabric from Éomer's room and then went there to finish cleaning. She made the bed with fresh sheets, hung the curtains and the hangings back up and turned around to take in the room. Even though most surfaces were still rather cluttered, it was no longer a mess. She had tried to organize the items in a pleasing manner and had placed the maps and books neatly stacked onto the desk.

Éomer had a rather large room, dominated by the massive bed and the imposing writing desk. The room had three windows giving to east, with a nice view over the city towards the Great Road. The room was decorated with warm, earthy tones, clearly not chosen out by its occupant. On the walls hung not only four wall hangings, but also a pennant with the white horse of Rohan emblazoned on it. The hangings depicted mostly battle scenes with horses and men riding to battle.

She straightened one of the carpets and tucked the corner of the bed cover just so. It was done. That same instant she heard a sound at the door. It was Éomer, of course.

"You've done a good job. I don't think I've ever seen this room this neat since I moved into it." It was said in a light, conversational tone. Éomer entered, looking around as if seeing his chambers for the first time.

"Aye, it was quite an undertaking, my lord." Éomer chuckled. His blue eyes had a mischievous look in them, just like she remembered them to have been all those years ago. All in all, her old friend had not changed much, even though he was now a man grown instead of a boy.

"Well, I expect nothing less of myself. Seeing this, though, I wonder why mistress Odwyn was so begrudged." Even though it was not a question, it required a response. Aefwyn pondered a moment too long and Éomer continued.

"She does not like you much, does she?" Aefwyn just shook her head, smiling a little.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier. You have not been here before." Aefwyn had of course heard of Éomer's prowess with the women of Edoras. At nineteen, he was a handsome man of a reputable birth, so women flocked around him to awake his interest. Aefwyn could not fault him for grasping every opportunity, but didn't want to join his long list of conquests.

"I have only been here for a week, my lord. I am Aefwyn." She curtsied. The mention of her name seemed to have an effect, though whatever it had been disappeared from his face the second it appeared. He mentioned none of it though, but continued in a casual manner.

"A week? Have you seen much of our beautiful city, or has Odwyn kept you too busy?" He walked to the window and rested his hands on the windowsill.

"Well, not all of my days have been as long as this one, my lord. Mistress Odwyn has had the tendency to give me demanding tasks, but I do not begrudge it." This wasn't entirely true, but she doubted Éomer would care either way. He had a life of his own, and probably spent very little time worrying about the servants.

"That does not ring entirely true to me. But I am very grateful to you as things are. It is always a pleasure to return home, but even more so when my chambers actually look homely instead of a storage space." He turned his head, looking at her.

"It is only what I am supposed to do, my lord, but you are very welcome." She bobbed a small curtsey again, expecting to be dismissed. Éomer, however, was not ready to do that quite yet, as it turned out.

"Allow me one question more. You said you have only been here for a week. Where did you come from?" This was a question Aefwyn normally wouldn't have minded answering, but she was not yet certain whether Éomer remembering their childhood friendship was a good thing, considering that Odwyn already disliked her. If Odwyn found out she had been friends with Éomund's children, she might have more cause to resent her. But when a lord asked, a servant answered.

"I come from Aldburg, my lord." Éomer nodded, thanked her again and dismissed her, without continuing the conversation. Aefwyn feared he might ask more questions from other people, but had no choice but to curtsey yet again and go.

She only then realized how tired she was. She had worked all day preparing the two rooms and had been up at dawn. She wandered through the now familiar hallways of Meduseld to her own little room. It was tidy and cool, but she hardly noticed any of this when she undressed and put on her nightgown. It was really just a big tunic, but since she had no one to share her room with it sufficed better than well. Wearied to the bone, she went to bed and quickly fell asleep.

Éomer sat by his desk after Aefwyn had left. He liked the way his room now looked, clean and fresh, and very unalike the room he remembered. How good it was to be home again!

He had been riding most of the day to reach Edoras. Théodred had bid him farewell that morning with his usual good cheer. They had both been waiting to return for quite some time, but the orc raids in the western part of Rohan had kept them busy all spring and well into summer.

There had been a lot more orcs than the year before. It was an ill omen that orcs were multiplying with this speed, but the amounts were not yet too large. An experienced éored could well match against these small raiding bands.

Éomer banished these worries from his mind. He was home and the orcs were now a problem for the next éored to take the patrolling duty. There were three Marshals in the Mark. The first one was Théoden himself. His éoreds were commanded by different captains and had the patrol duty along the northern edges of Rohan. The Second Marshal was Théodred, under whose command Éomer rode. Théodred had wanted the duty along the western borders, and the éoreds under his command took turns in patrolling the area. The third Marshal had the eastern part of Rohan under his command.

Of course, the borders were only part of the duties Marshals had. The First Marshal was senior amongst the three, and commanded the immediate vicinity of Edoras and all the Kings lands. The Second and Third Marshals had much more variance in their duties and went where they were commanded to go. As only one éored under each Marshal was at a time at the borders, the rest were free to follow these other duties.

Marshals were military commanders, and Éomer had always thought there needed to be more than three of them. Rohan was a vast country, but inhabited only sparsely. It would be much more efficient to divide Rohan into manageable parts, one for each Marshal to command. These musings were only daydreams. Théodred had heard of his opinions, but didn't agree. He thought each Marshal already had enough men to control all of Riddermark just fine as it was.

Éomer idly opened one of the books on the table, but closed it almost as soon again, as yet another thought crossed his mind.

The servant girl, Aefwyn. He usually paid very little mind to servants, but this one had had a sense of familiarity about her. As she had herself said, though, she had only been in Meduseld for only a week, so Éomer possibly couldn't have met her before.

She had talked about Aldburg though.

Then a memory took him over, taking him back years to a time nearly forgotten amongst his many duties.

_The girl was slight of stature, with a light brown hair and laughing dark blue eyes. Her hair had been teased into a braid that hung over her shoulder. She was laughing with him and Éowyn, watching their kite fly higher and higher over the rooftops of Aldburg. They had built the kite together, from stolen parchment and sticks and a length of yarn. It hadn't been a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination, but it had worked like a dream._

_In the memory, a commanding voice then yelled out a name, "Aefwyn!", and the dream was shattered. The laughing girl had turned solemn. She had waved them goodbye and ran away, and part of the sunlight ran with her. He knew, in memory, that this girl was nearly as dear to him as his own sister, and he knew he had always felt this empty seeing her leave._

Éomer focused again to his surroundings. The room had grown dimmer, as the sun was near setting. He rose from the chair and left the room, preoccupied with the memory that had stirred from the deep recesses of his mind.

He had buried his memory of his childhood in Aldburg very far in his mind. He had wanted to forget the pain of losing first his father and then his mother. He had wanted to forget that the pain had ever existed, and had kept denying it of himself until he had forgotten almost everything of those years. He had been eleven when his mother had died eight years ago, but that hadn't stopped him of trying so very hard to forget.

But now this one memory had come back to him, and with it, the pain of loss all over again. He had been too young to understand the finality of his parents' passing, and hadn't dealt with the pain at all then. Éowyn had had an easier time accustoming to the king's household, because she had been younger and less resistant to the change in their life. Éomer had at first been resentful. He had wanted to go back home, to the world he had known. He had hoped that all that had happened might have only been a nightmare.

By suppressing the memory of his parents, Éomer had also suppressed many memories of Aefwyn, his friend. But now he remembered.

He sat to a table by the roaring fireplace and asked for a pitcher of ale, and after receiving the foaming beverage took a healthy swallow. He had had a friend in Aldburg. A girl, daughter of a servant. Aefwyn. She had been a few years younger than him, but a bit older than Éowyn. They had been nigh inseparable until… until his parents had died. It was still hard to think about it, but he couldn't deny the truth any longer. He had spent years trying to forget how awful it had felt, but now he knew he couldn't put the facts away so easily.

This sudden recollection had been brought on by such a small thing. A single name had reminded him that not all of his suppressed memories were bad ones. He felt gratitude towards Aefwyn – he felt as though she had given him back a time in his life when "worry" was only a word. When it had only meant that there might be a spanking in the horizon. Now the word had much more meaning, but also more perspective.

How had Aefwyn ended up in Edoras, though? Her mother had been a servant, and servants usually remained where they were born.

This thought conjured up another image. Aefwyn's eyes had been shadowed when she had mentioned Aldburg. Perhaps something had happened to her mother. That would explain why she was now here.

How about Odwyn's hostility? Éowyn had often complained how stubborn the older woman was. She said the hall needed more servants and Odwyn resisted. So, this meant that Éowyn had forced Odwyn to hire Aefwyn. But the way Odwyn treated Aefwyn suggested that she knew not that Aefwyn had been a friend to Éomund's children.

Éomer was satisfied that he had found answers to all these things.

He wasn't a man to spend time idle, thinking of things he could do nothing about. He was a man of action, a warrior, a Rider. He hadn't been enthusiastic of the teachings he had received about history, philosophy or literature; things his mother had considered necessary for a man of noble birth to know. He read, but the books were of warfare, not of learning. He thought, but of necessary things like feeding his men or the breeding of horses, not of how the world had been made or why the sky was blue.

His sister often called him Bonehead because he didn't much care how his wants or needs affected those around him. He didn't do things intentionally to harm others, but he didn't bother trying to figure out a path of least resistance either. Life to him was like a field of battle: full of obstacles to be hacked down forcibly. He was a man of some cunning when it came to warcraft, but political maneuvering was to him a useless waste of time. This was why many of his uncle's advisors disliked him: he didn't take to heed the advices they so desperately wanted to give him, nor did he pay much mind to anything else they said either.

Having come to this conclusion about why Aefwyn was in Meduseld, and having found determination to make life easier for her, Éomer set out to find his sister. She would know how to make things right.

* * *

><p>And what will Éowyn come up with? Hehe, I know, but you will have to be patient with me. I'll try to get some writing done during Christmas, but it won't be published before I can get bak to my little corner of civilization, that HAS internet :P Merry Christmas to you all (or whatever it is you might be celebrating)!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hi all! Dorry for the delay! As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I was away for Christmas. After Christmas I had some unexpted issues with my computer. I had to reinstallg windows and all my programs, and that took ages. Also, this chapter is pretty short, as I felt the story would be better served by me not including anything further in this one.

I have a good image at the moment on how I want to continue from here. The next chapter should thus be out much quicker than this one. Thank you for your patience with me!

* * *

><p>A week had passed since Éomer had returned to Edoras. During that time, Aefwyn had hardly seen a glimpse of him. When she had seen him though, he had been conspiratorially whispering with the lady Éowyn.<p>

Aefwyn had a feeling in her gut telling her they had talked of her.

She thought herself superstitious. Why on earth would they talk of her?

She cast the thoughts from her head as she had a habit of doing with unpleasant thoughts. Not that the thought of Éowyn and Éomer talking of her would in itself be unpleasant, but she knew what kind of ideas those two had hatched in childhood and didn't think they'd ventured too far from their mischiefs. It would do her no good to dwell in their plans before they would unwind for her eyes.

Odwyn had been more pleasant to her after Éomer had defended her. She no longer received only the most unpleasant task, although they still oft landed on her feet. She had already served the tables one evening, under the supervision of an elder maid named Aldriga. Aldriga was known amongst the staff as Odwyn's right hand, and that she had been. She wasn't as open in her contempt as the head maid, but had made it clear she didn't believe Aefwyn could perform her duties.

Aefwyn hoped she had proven the woman wrong. She hadn't broken any dishes, even if she had felt nervous under the other woman's supervision. Everyone had seemed satisfied with her service and no one had voiced complaints.

She looked down at the sheets she had been folding. They had been freshly washed and scented softly of herbs and fresh air. There was also a strong hint of the soap used, but it would soon fade leaving behind the pleasant odor of clean laundry.

Aefwyn had spent a lot of time going over the discussion she had had with Éomer. He had seemed much like the boy Aefwyn had known, but had also been so very different. He had been tempered by his life in the éored, and Aefwyn could sense a new ruthlessness just under the cover of a familiar surface.

When they had been children, Éomer had been the leader of their little threesome. He had been a driving force behind their pranks, his agile mind coming up with one scheme after another. That same skill would make him a fearsome tactician once age would grind away his rashness, Aefwyn sensed. In a subconscious level she knew Éomer would be destined for military greatness one day.

And she would spend her days working for him and his kin as was right and good. She had been born into a life of servitude, but only in recent years had these chains of predestination chafed on her. She had seen the marks of the same struggle in her mother, but Eadgifa's long years of service had worn away the edges of her resistance.

Nevertheless, Aefwyn could sometimes sense the same kind of tragedy her mother had suffered just behind the corner. She had always imagined that her mother's unwillingness to talk about her past had to do with an ill-fated love, an affair she was the result of. She had never had the chance to ask her mother, a woman from a woman, but she knew her mother had suffered from a broken heart as certainly as the lady Théodwyn had.

Aedgifa had been the stronger one of the two in that aspect. Théodwyn had let herself be succumbed by her grief, whereas Eadgifa had devoted herself to her work and to her daughter. Théodwyn's love for Éomund must have been great indeed.

These were no conscious thoughts in Aefwyn's mind, and if asked, she could never put them to words. But she knew them, within the deep recesses of her mind, just as Éomer knew his nature as a warrior. If someone had asked either one of them a straightforward question about their innermost workings, they would have given an entirely different answer that would be no more untrue without a second thought.

Aefwyn folded away the rest of the sheets and left the laundry room. Her shift would be over in half an hour and her tasks were nigh on finished. She picked up a broom from the closet nearby and took to cleaning the hallway. It was one of the tasks anyone could devote themselves to once they had nothing else to do, and so at any time of day a maid or two could be seen swiping the floors somewhere around Meduseld.

The floors in Meduseld were former by the massive granite slabs that formed the foundation of the Great Hall of the Kings of Rohan. They had been worn smooth by centuries of feet walking on them, but centuries had not taken away the wonder it must have been to get them to where they lay. Meduseld was located on a stony hilltop, and some stones were probably from nearby. Not all of them though, because some stones could easily be spotted out to be of a different shade or of a different mineral. Those ones had been brought from the White Mountains by a barge along the river, and it must have been a great test of strength to haul the up the hill.

Aefwyn wasted no time for such menial thoughts on Meduseld's history though. Her mind had returned on the problem at hand.

She did not wish for Éowyn and Éomer to try and make a difference in her life. Even though the uneventfullness and tedium of servitude sometimes chafed on her, she did not wish to receive special treatment just because she'd known them.

Little did she know that Éowyn and Éomer would indeed have a plan hatched. And, unsurprisingly, she would be involved no matter how much she wished otherwise.

Her brother had really not wasted any time after his arrival, Éowyn thought. Already he had his eye set on a servant.

Despite her young age and innocence, she was not blind to her brother's antics. She had after all lived with Éomer for all of her life and knew full well how his mind worked. He was a straight-forward man, and his plans went by the same line. They had no unnecessary twists and they usually worked like a charm.

First he had heard of his brother was that he had to talk to her about a girl. That surprised her not. However, at that time, neither of them had had time to delve further on the matter, as their uncle the king had requested their presence.

After that Éomer had tried to talk about whatever it was on multiple occasions, but the arrival of prince Théodred had put the whole household into a small, delighted frenzy and the siblings had very little time to sit down and talk.

Éowyn didn't really mind.

Even though she loved her brother dearly, hearing of his problems with the Hall's ladyfolk was not an area of conversation Éowyn liked partaking.

Now it seemed as though her brother had cornered her with the conversation.

"Have you time to talk with me, sister?" Éomer was sitting along one of the massive trestle tables in the hall, a pitcher of ale in front of him on the time-worn surface.

Éowyn sat and nodded.

"But if it's about wooing a servant, I shall not listen." Éomer laughed, as if the mere thought would amuse him.

"It is about a servant all right, but I've no intention to woo her. In fact, you know her as well." Éowyn frowned slightly. Of course, she knew all the servants the hall employed, at least by name. But which one could Éomer be referring to?

"It seems Odwyn has hired an old friend." Now Éowyn understood. Her brother was speaking of the new girl, the one Éowyn had insisted Odwyn to hire. She had not seen the girl yet, and was under the assumption that Odwyn was still training the girl.

"Really?"

"Remember Aefwyn? We used to play together when we still lived in Aldburg." Éowyn had hazy memories of those years, she had been seven when their mother had passed and they had come to live in Edoras with their royal uncle.

"She was a servant's daughter, was she not? Odwyn mentioned to me that she had talked to a girl from Aldburg, but didn't tell me her name. She just mentioned that she had known the girl's mother and thought the girl unfit to work here." Éowyn hadn't paid any special mind to her conversation with Odwyn then, but now that Éomer had brought the matter up she did remember hearing the girl had been from Aldburg, and even having thought about how familiar her mother's name had sounded.

"Wasn't the head maid of Aldburg named Eadgifa?" she asked, hoping her brother would confirm the fact.

"I think so. I think Aefwyn came here because something happened to her mother." Éowyn nodded to this, she remembered Odwyn saying the girl was an orphan.

"Why are you bringing this up? Perhaps she doesn't want us to know she is here; to really start anew." Éomer shrugged.

"I would think she didn't come to you for that reason. But we were good friends then, why would she want to avoid us entirely now?" Éowyn knew her brother thought very little about the differences of stature amongst people. Éomer paid little heed to rank, which was a good thing when half of his comrades in his éored were of a low birth. But in Meduseld, such things weren't of as little consequence.

"We are of a noble birth and she is a bastard daughter of a servant, Éomer. She has obviously thought of this further than you have. If she were to behave here like a friend to us she would get scolded or fired immediately." Eadgifa's bastard daughter had been a source of gossip in Aldburg, that much Éowyn remembered. She had not known then what that meant, but now she did. Théodwyn her lady mother had paid very little heed to gossip and had held Eadgifa in high esteem: how else could a girl of such a low birth be a playmate to the king's niece and nephew?

"I take it you have not noticed how Odwyn treats her?" Éowyn had not, and Odwyn had not brought the girl up in their conversations either after that morning.

"Is there then something I should know?" Éomer smiled.

"It seems for once I know something you do not, little sister."

"Well then, tell me. And don't look so smug." The smile faded from Éomer's face.

"She gives Aefwyn the most arduous tasks. And from what I've seen, doesn't even allow her time to eat." Odwyn was known to be a stern woman, so Éowyn was hardly surprised she was giving out strenuous tasks to a girl she had been reluctant to hire in the first place. But food was something Edoras had a plenty, and no one was forced to work in huger in Meduseld.

"I need to address this. I take it you have talked with Aefwyn then?" Éomer nodded and gave her a brief version of what he had seen after he had returned. He didn't go into too much detail, but the picture he painted was worrisome.

"You know, I might know why Odwyn dislikes her so." Éowyn said ponderously. A detail of her conversation with Odwyn had popped to her head during Éomer's tale. She continued:

"Odwyn used to work at Aldburg before she came here. And she told me she disliked Eadgifa when she told me she didn't want to hire Aefwyn. I think Odwyn and Eadgifa have had a quarrel over something, and Odwyn is taking it out on Aefwyn. But what they have argued about is beyond me."

"What can we do, then?" Éomer asked. He seemed determined to help Aefwyn. That was like Éomer, he wanted to help people, to make things easier for them. That made him well liked among his men. The trait was good for a member of the royal family. Their good rule and genuine interest on their subjects' wellbeing was what made the royal line so well loved.

"It cannot be anything straightforward. If I were Aefwyn, I wouldn't want our friendship to be public knowledge. First, it would only upset Odwyn more and make her more insecure of her standing. Secondly, I doubt she would be all too pleased if the whole town knew everything of her as they certainly would eventually." Éowyn was quiet for a moment, considering their options.

"Odwyn already dislikes her. She is wroth that she had to hire her at my command. If she found out I have a connection to Aefwyn she would think Aefwyn came to me after Odwyn declined her. That would make Aefwyn's life no easier. Odwyn is a woman to hold her grudges."

"You're right. Then what can we do?" Éomer looked troubled. He wasn't a man to like secrecy and hated not being able to do as he pleased. And at this moment, Éowyn knew Éomer would have wanted to regain the friendship they had had with Aefwyn. She too had valued the girl's friendship, as it had felt as if she had also a sister and not only a brother. But now it would not make Aefwyn's life any easier it would be thought she had gained her place in Edoras through her friendship with Éomund's children.

"Well, we could act as we have thus far; that is, paying no heed to her presence outside the confines of her employment and our station. Or, we could pretend our friendships rebirth is a coincidence, that she is a new friend of ours instead of an old one." She could tell by the look on Éomer's face that neither option much pleased him. His distaste for secrecy and lies didn't go well with these plans. But it would pose a danger to Aefwyn to tell the truth.

"I do not like it, but for her sake we mustn't tell the truth. Let us then make people think we have taken a liking to her only now. We know the truth, and that is enough for now." Éomer still looked troubled, but there was a smile on his lips.

"I wouldn't want her to think we think ourselves better than her now." Éowyn nodded. She didn't keep herself above others like some of the Rohirrim nobility, small as it was. Her upbringing had brought her to value people as individuals and look beyond their social class.

Éomer was the same way. The way he disregarded rank and stature was not well liked amongst the stiff-collared lords of some ancient Rohirric houses, but it mattered little to Éomer. Éowyn was more careful to mask how she really thought: one day she might have to marry into one of those houses. Dismissing their opinions and displeasing them would make a marriage to their family uncomfortable in the least.

A lieutenant called for Éomer then and interrupted their almost concluded conversation. Éomer bid her farewell and left the Hall with the other man. Éowyn sat on her seat for a long moment, suddenly very tired.

* * *

><p>AN: In the next chapter, we'll be jumping a bit ahead in time. I really don't think I should go on writing of Aefwyn performing something meticulously, as the story progression would take ages. I promise I won't cut out anything important ;P


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So, as I said the last time, I moved a bit forward in time. This chapter takes place a year later than the previous one. It's year 3011 of the Third Age.

I had bit of a trouble writing this one, which is why it took a while longer. However, it is also the longest chapter thus far. I finished this already on friday, but ff didn't let me log in for two days so that I could have posted it. But, finally, here you go:

* * *

><p>Almost a year had passed since Aefwyn had arrived to Edoras. During that year she had regained some of her friendship with Éomund's children. They had approached her slowly, as if fearing she might have changed so much they wouldn't know her at all anymore. Éowyn had been the more cautious one, but Éomer, as always, had moved forward in with the same rashness he always sported.<p>

Éomer's attention to her quickly sprouted rumors in the servants' quarters. Many seemed to believe they were having a secret affair, a notion so silly Aefwyn had to restrain herself from laughing out loud every time someone asked her about it. And ask they did. Some of the girls Éomer had previously dallied with came to warn her that he could never be serious with a servant girl and that she shouldn't at least believe he could have fallen in love with her.

She usually brushed these rumors off with a small laugh and saying that Éomer was just a friendly person. She herself would have been the last one to believe Éomer to have ulterior motives. Éomer was, after all, the staple example of a straight-forward person if anyone.

Her "new" friendship with the royal niece and nephew had softened Odwyn up. Even if she sometimes had a doubtful look upon her, she no longer dared to give her only the dirtiest tasks as she had done in the beginning. She had been given the task of taking care of Éowyn and Éomer's chambers. It was not a small task, seeing that the siblings both had spacious rooms.

She didn't see them too often though. Éowyn was busy taking care of her uncle's household and Éomer spent increasing periods of time patrolling the outskirts of Rohan. Orcs had started to attack the border villages with more ferocity and in greater masses, and Edoras at times felt very empty with all the Riders gone on various missions.

Also, the passing of a year had seen a slow decline in Théoden King's health. He had become forgetful and more reliant on his advisors. Or more specifically, Gríma son of Galmód. It was hardly noticeable at times, but sometimes one could see the king wasn't quite how he had been. The change was very subtle, but nevertheless some had noticed it.

Aefwyn herself thought the king to be just as he had been. He was a man in his late fifties, and sometimes age did that to men. Some of the king's senior advisors just did not like Gríma all that well, and wanted to make him seem worse than he was, she thought. She didn't like Gríma either, his sly eyes or unkempt appearance, but she was not in a position to judge someone Théoden King had elevated into a distinguished station within his household.

Éowyn hated Gríma. The man made no longer any attempts to guise his interest in the king's niece. He was in a high position within the court now, and it wasn't uncommon for an advisor to marry from the royal line. It had happened several times after Eorl had made court at Aldburg, and it was obvious this was also in Gríma's hopes.

Of course, very rarely had the bride been of such an exquisite birth as Éowyn. Mostly they had been second cousins to a king or even less connected to the ruling king. But Gríma had set his sights high and they were firmly set on Éowyn. Thus far the king had dismissed such a notion as foolish, and both Aefwyn and Éowyn were deeply grateful for that. Aefwyn's reasons were at parts very selfish as she detested the thought of touching anything that man possessed. Also, she saw how much Éowyn feared and detested the man and knew perfectly well why.

Éowyn at sixteen was a beautiful maiden. Her hair was long and golden, her body slender and perfectly formed, and her oval face the very image of beauty. She had inherited every ounce of royal grace her mother had ever possessed. She was not too conscious of her beauty though. Most of the time it seemed she was hardly aware of her looks, and even less aware of their effect on men.

Aefwyn admired it. After she had befriended the royal siblings again, she had been the subject of some attention from the rest of the men who inhabited the Hall. It seemed as though the mere presence of Éomer in her vicinity had made her seem available. It was of course a silly notion, but now she had to shoo away young Riders left and right. It seemed Éomer's prowess with the ladyfolk made her seem like his latest conquest and as such available for everyone.

The very notion of her being Éomer's lover seemed a tad ridiculous to her, and even more so their way of thinking. Even if Éomer had bedded her, why on earth would she then drag every other man to her bed? The siblings seemed to find as much mirth in the young men's antics as she did when she told them of the things those young men talked to her about.

She hadn't noticed the way Éomer never seemed to be completely genuine in his mirth, or how his eyes never laughed with them.

Éomer was again scheduled to return any day now. Éowyn and Aefwyn were both expecting him anxiously. He seemed like a savior to them both: to Éowyn because Gríma seemed to be more afraid of him than of anyone, and to Aefwyn because his return meant the young men would leave her alone for a while.

She had very little interest in the dalliances they proposed, partially knowing that could still endanger her job and partially because those young men weren't interesting to her at all. They were like young stallions quite not in their prime yet, trying so hard to win over a reluctant mare that she just couldn't take them seriously.

A few times she had noticed her mind straying towards silly daydreams of Éomer. She usually caught herself in time when thinking such foolish thoughts and banished them from her mind with even more work. She knew how stupid those daydreams were: Éomer was after all still second in the line to the throne, should their cousin Théodred never have living issue.

And that wasn't too unseemly a scenario: Théodred was now 33 years old and seemed to have no intention of marrying anytime soon. In times like these when orcs were raiding the kingdom, it would have been safer to the crown if Théodred would marry post haste and get his wife with child.

These thoughts about the mortality of their prince were a common concern in Edoras at the time. Even though Théodred was in perfect physical health, his lack of wife made people worry for the future of their homeland. They still had a succession for the crown in Éomer, but he too was unmarried. The general populace of Edoras seemed to be a bit worried about these things, but no discontent was ever voiced. They trusted their king to eventually force his son into marriage, or if that proved too difficult, to coerce his dallying nephew into one.

Éowyn had told her that the king had made some inquiries to find suitable spouses for both men. Thus far, his findings had been rare, mostly because there were not many suitable women amongst the Rohirrim royalty. The whole concept of royalty sat ill with their culture, but some kind of upper class had nevertheless formed in Rohan. It consisted of families with ancient ties to the royal house, either through common ancestry or through marriage. Usually the members of these families rose high amongst the ranks of the military, some through their prowess as Riders and others through other means.

The concept of favoring people just because of their birth was strange to a culture that based almost entirely on a military force. That didn't stop men in high places from favoring their offspring, but it was by no means common. Most fathers though, like the king himself, expected their sons to prove their worth before they could ascend the ranks. Both Théodred and Éomer had started as common Riders. They had proven themselves to be good soldiers and had been given more responsibility when it had been due. Théodred had risen to his position as Marshal through the ranks as any other might. Under his command served his cousin, in nearly as exalted position as a captain.

It was this that made Riders of Rohan a truly fearsome force. Each Rider knew their task and set out to fulfill it with all their determination. Also, their commanders knew well what it meant to be a Rider in their ranks, as they had firsthand experiences of it. Having learned their share of military history they knew that in Gondor, for example, captains were often chosen for their birth rather than their prowess. There were men who rose to this responsibility, like Boromir, whom they had heard of. And, there were others who didn't quite live up to the challenge they had been given.

But, in the issue at hand, military prowess meant very little. It would have been an honor to any man in Rohan to say their daughter was to marry the king's only son or even his nephew. But very few men were in such a position as to offer their daughter's hand. And very few men in a suitable position had a daughter to offer. The Third Marshal, who was from an old and exalted lineage, had no daughters of a suitable age. The king's advisors, who were also of notable lineage, many with ties to the royal house, were older men whose daughters had already married. And their grandchildren were toddlers.

The king had of course set his sights also to lands far away from Rohan. The Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil, had just succeeded his father, who had died the previous year. He had a daughter, a maid of twelve years. Very young she was, and perhaps too young for this perilous situation. Théoden had no time to wait for this girl to grow, as his son needed a wife as soon as possible. But for Éomer, in a few years, the girl could be a suitable bride. Assuming the prince would give his only daughter to marry a mere nephew to the king.

But who was then to marry Théodred? The Steward of Gondor had no daughters, and the nobles in his halls were mostly strangers to the people of Rohan. Théodred himself showed significant lack of interest in the matter. He wooed maids, but none of them could be his queen. He had never fathered a bastard to any of his mistresses and once they were history in his eyes he was always courteous to them and never cruel. He had never found a woman he liked well enough to marry, and that he had said to his father quite a number of times.

And the people worried with their king. Even if it was only the people of Edoras who knew their prince was disinclined to marry, even people in the furthest reaches of Rohan knew he was not married, and spent time wondering who his father would choose for him.

Aefwyn had in a year learned a great deal of the political climate of Edoras. She heard rumors and gossip every day, and a significant portion of it was about the possible brides. It amused her to no end, to listen to them ponder the best and worst sides of each candidate. Their most distant object of admiration was Lothíriel, the little princess of Dol Amroth. They knew next to nothing of the girl, but nevertheless she was soon dubbed Éomer's bride. Aefwyn doubted Éomer knew very little about this scheme, as he didn't even know of the king's inquiries: he had been away from Edoras the whole time patrolling the borders. Éowyn knew of them as she had penned the letters for her uncle herself. Éowyn acted often as a secretary to the king and thus learned a lot of the political undercurrents.

Aefwyn sat on one of the stone slabs that formed the basis for the massive façade of the Golden Hall. From her vantage she saw the road make its way down the hill towards the great wooden gates; and the market place that was quieting for the night. Night was slowly falling, but it wouldn't be dark until perhaps two more hours.

She was waiting for Éomer. She had sat like this for an hour or two every evening and planned on doing so until Éomer returned. Sometimes Éowyn sat for a while with her, and sometimes one of her young admirers sat down for a while. They usually lingered outside and every once in a while one of them would approach her and try to strike a conversation.

Tonight, though, none of them was to be seen. The evening was quiet and the first stars were just coming out. This was as close to peaceful one could ever reach, Aefwyn thought to herself. Her days were full of the hustle of the kitchens and of work. Her evenings, on the other hand, spent like this one were peaceful and allowed her soul to rest.

She noticed not the gate opening, nor the men who rode within, wearied by travel and of battles. Her gaze lingered in the stars above, seeking for solace and guidance. Despite her friendships, she was still sometimes so lonely. It was nights like these when she often wondered who her father might have been.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she only noticed the arriving Riders after they had already started stabling their horses. She immediately spotted Éomer from the crowd, but remained seated. He was still in charge, and even if his men knew perfectly well what to do, Aefwyn had no intention of interrupting them. They were weary from the travel and wanted to get home to their families. She on the other hand was in no hurry.

She waited for perhaps half an hour, watching them care for their mounts and the packhorses. At this late hour, the stable boys were nowhere to be seen, and the men walked in and out of the stables carrying water for the horses. Finally, Éomer started towards the hall, in the company of another man. When they reached the stairs, however, his companion walked away, with a wave of his hand. Éomer continued up the steps, his saddlebags slung casually over one shoulder.

"A fine evening to spend outside, Aefwyn", he offered as a greeting and she nodded.

"It is so peaceful here." Éomer knew the bustle of the hall could sometimes be unbearable and nodded. He set down his bags and sat down next to her. Between them was a respectful distance, proper for two unmarried people.

"How long have you been outside?" The weather was warm, but the air had started to cool now that the sun was passing behind the mountains in the west. A soft breeze took the edge off the heat during the days, but it too had faded now.

"Perhaps an hour or two. I've not kept track of time." Aefwyn thought it was closer to two hours now, but she was in no hurry. Even with her light summer clothing made of linen she was comfortably warm still.

"What's happened since I last left?" This was a staple question, one he always asked when he returned. He got two different answers to it, in the least, one from his sister and one from Aefwyn. Éowyn told him of matters of state and of the household happenings, Aefwyn of interesting bits of gossip or interesting events.

"I hear you are to marry." She said this first partly to startle him. Part of her though wanted to hear his answer for more selfish reasons.

"Am I? I've not heard of such a maid as to tame me." There was a smile on his voice, but his eyes betrayed worry.

"I hear you are to marry a princess." His smile faded.

"Ah, the princess of what?"

"Of Dol Amroth, or so I've heard. Lothíriel is her name, a maid of twelve." A smile returned to his lips.

"Such a tiny thing! Then that prison is long years ahead of me still." Aefwyn was part relieved by his words, but a worry set in her heart too.

"Perhaps." She kept on with her play, wanting to see him betray some more emotion. His face remained calm though, and it was getting too dark to see his thoughts in his eyes. The torches lighting up the façade were behind them, and only a soft glow lighted his golden hair.

"Perhaps! I cannot marry a maid of twelve, she is a child still!" He sounded light-hearted again, but not too genuine.

"Worry not. The king has pondered over the matter of your marriage. The princess may still be a child, but you are not old yet either."

"Why on earth would uncle be pondering over my marriage? Doesn't he have any more pressing concerns?" There was a clear undertone of annoyance in his voice. Aefwyn almost smiled thinking he sounded a bit like a petulant child with that particular tone of voice.

"Well, as your cousin is unlikely to marry anytime soon, you are the only one he can play matchmaking with. Also, you are far easier when it comes to finding suitable brides. Théodred has the burden of being the next king; his wife must be of suitable birth." Éomer gave her a sidelong glance.

"You've really been thinking about this, haven't you?"Awfwyn felt a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She was this time pleased of the setting night.

"It is the thing people are talking about. Everyone in Edoras is worried. Men die, and dead men cannot produce heirs." Éomer nodded and sighed.

"And because my cousin has no wife and no heir, and no immediate intention of gaining either, they talk of me." He was looking at his hands.

"Well, unless I want to marry a princess I've never even met, I should probably marry someone else then. Does my uncle really think the prince of Dol Amroth would give his daughter to me? I have nothing else than my halls in Aldburg, and that is not much for someone used to such grace as the city of swans." Éomer looked at her, but Aefwyn doubted he now saw much.

The light had almost completely faded, and their vantage was lit only by the torches now. The great braziers that stood in front of Meduseld had not been lit. Éomer's golden hair looked like molten bronze in the dim, reddish light, his face hidden in shadows.

"That is what I have wondered too. But the king has very few possible brides to choose from. I know Aldburg cannot match the grace of any gondorian court; I have seen it. But the princess should be happy to marry a man of such courage as you are." Aefwyn had had many conversations similar to this in the year passed, but only in the decent months it had started to feel that the words she spoke betrayed more of her emotions than she wanted to give away.

Before she had come to Edoras she had found herself dreaming of Éomer. She had never thought she could be attracted to her friend, but in his last absence she had noticed she in fact was. All this talk of who he should marry had stirred a jealousy in her chest, and it was a feeling she didn't feel herself entitled to. She had no cause to be jealous of the woman Éomer would one day marry; she could never be that woman. Her birth was too common, her wealth too inexistent. But still, the feeling of uneasy attraction had crept into her chest, and there it stayed, right next to her quivering heart.

"Of course you should say that. You are my friend, after all." His voice was quiet, and it sounded like he was deep in thought. Neither of them looked at each other. Aefwyn had locked her gaze to where her hands must have been. She only saw the pale outlines of her hands, grasping each other tightly.

"You cannot deny the truth in my words, though. But tell me, how was your tour this time?" She wanted to derail the conversation to a safer route.

"We killed a lot of orcs, found one burned village stead and saw the villagers safe within the walls of the next settlement. Quite the usual, as much as it saddens me to say it."

It was quiet for a while. They sat in silence, gazing up to the stars above. It was the most comfortable silence Aefwyn had ever felt.

The sounds of revelry from the hall finally woke them from their trance. The commanding officers of the éoreds that had returned today were drinking and laughing within. Normally, it would have been the place to find Éomer as well. Even though their thoughts had been thus disturbed, they sat still until the great doors opened and men started pouring out.

"Hey, Éomer, why are you sitting here all by yourself? Oh, I see!" It was one of Éomer's commaders, a man named Dréma. He was in his thirties, a burly man with a mighty beard and a bush of reddish brown hair.

"A pretty lass you have found indeed!" There was a chorus of rowdy cheers from the other men.

"Mind your words, Dréma." Éomer responded, smiling. His voice was low and not too cheery, even though his manner was friendly. The officer took the hint and after a few more cat calls the troupe descended the stairs to find a tavern.

"I apologize."

"No need, Éomer. After all, most men stationed here already think we have something going on." This seemed to be a surprise to him.

"Really? Whatever for? Because we sit here and talk?"

"Well, that and the fact that they think it is surely a sign of something more that the lord Éomer spends his time with a servant. I am sure you can see what they think they are seeing if you put your mind to it." She looked straight at him, the other side of his face lit by the torches as he looked at her too.

"They think I'm wooing you." It was a statement so obvious Aefwyn suddenly felt like laughing. She would have, if it wouldn't have been so painfully clear this was the first time Éomer had thought of it.

"So they do. You've built me quite a reputation." She was joking again, a mischief to see his reaction again.

"They really think…?"

"Oh, surely. Have you ever before just been friends with a serving wench? How could I be any different?"

"But you are!" Aefwyn smiled.

"And how could they know? They see what they want to see, and unfortunately, evidence like this helps us not."

Éomer looked afraid. Well, disconcerted. His head had snapped back to staring at his hands, and even under the ruddy light of the torches, Aefwyn thought she saw a slight blush creeping up his neck.

"You really haven't thought of that? I have a throng of admirers thanks to you." That got back his attention. He turned his face back towards her, eyes blazing.

"How many?" There was a ferocity in his voice that made Aefwyn instinctively pull back a little.

"Well, quite a number. I haven't really counted them. Most are so shy they cannot bear to come and talk to me."

"I see. And do you like their attentions?"

"Well, I think it's amusing. They think I am your mistress. When you are gone, they think I want something to distract myself in your absence." He seemed angry.

"And have they proved worthy distractions, Aefwyn?" His voice was low, almost a growl.

"What's with you? They are boys. Do you really think I would care of them in the slightest?"

"Well, surely I must be upset if my mistress dallies with others when I'm gone."

"Surely, was I your mistress." He laughed then. It was a bit uneasy, like he had just remembered she wasn't.

"You got me there. Come, let us go inside. It's getting cold." It was true. After sunset the air had cooled. She hadn't paid attention to it during their conversation, but now she felt goose bumps racing up her arm. She took his offered hand and got up.

"Good night, Éomer."

"Sleep well." They parted when they entered the hall. Éomer went straight towards his own quarters, paying no heed to the few men calling him from one of the tables. Aefwyn walked to her rooms, deep in thought.

Sleep didn't come easy to her, but finally she fell asleep well past midnight.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, the story moved forward quite a bit here. These two are a hard couple to play Cupid on, which is part of the reason why it took so long to finish this. It was fun to write them flirting though. I'm taking a few artistic liberties in this chapter. It's pretty damn hard to find any information about the years 3011 to 3014, so I have to make some stuff up. Looking at Encyclopedia of Arda, for example, the period seems peaceful for the Rohirrim, but it seems unlikely to me that it actually could have been so.

Thank you very much for all your support! It's really wonderful to see how many people are following this story!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry that this has taken so long.

After the last chapter, I've had some pretty damn inconvenient shifts that have made it nigh on impossible for me to write. Also, it took some trouble to decide how much I'd want to write in this chapter. I know what I want to do with Éomer and Aefwyn and the broad lines of how to get there, but every chapter is still a hurdle to cross until I reach the period in time where I know exactly how the bigger story pans out. Tolkien didn't tell us much about the Rohirrim prior to the events of the war, other than who was king when. And that doesn't help me all that much at this point, so all the details are largely made up. (Like with Gríma. I'm not certain when he arrived to Edoras or when he gained influence over the king, and that's why I introduced him already in the beginning. Even if Théoden doesn't get sick until 3014, and we're still at this point going through 3011.)

But anyway, read along!

* * *

><p>The morning after Aefwyn had welcomed Éomer back dawned bright and seemingly very early.<p>

Or, that was what it seemed like to Aefwyn. She usually fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but last night she had lain still and thought. She had dreamed until she had been too tired, and even after falling asleep pictures had danced in her head so that she was still tired when she woke up.

That was why the sun seemed unnaturally bright. And it really felt like she had only been asleep for perhaps fifteen minutes and it couldn't possibly be so bright yet. She hadn't heard any of Edoras' many roosters sing their morning fanfare yet, which made her even more certain that the sun couldn't possibly be so bright at this time of night.

She dragged herself off the bed and looked out the small window. It was indeed morning, no matter how her head tried telling her it was perhaps two hours past midnight now. She was glad she had no duties to take care of today, as she would have fallen asleep while doing them.

But even if she had no work duties, she had tasks she had to take care of in a personal level: her dresses needed washing, her room was in a need of a quick clean-up and she needed to go find some new combs for her hair.

She had always fancied her hair long, and now it waved past her waist all the way down to her hips. She needed a way to secure her hair up while she worked, and her current assortment of combs, ribbons and pieces of string were fast proving inadequate. They were mostly inherited from her mother, who had always fancied a shorter hairstyle, an efficient little bun at the nape of her neck, formed by her shoulder length thick hair.

So, after getting dressed Aefwyn took her laundry basket and headed towards the laundry room. It was not so much a room than a separate little house behind Meduseld some way down the hill. It was build next to a small fountain and a creek separating from it. The little pond provided ample water for washing, which was also the reason why the common bath house was right to the other side of the pond.

She entered the gloomy interior. There were a number of big wooden pails and other utensils needed for washing and rinsing of clothes. She chose one of the smaller kettles and hauled it over one of the small ovens where a fire was always lit. She filled the kettle with water and dumped in her clothes. She stirred the water every once in a while waiting for it to start boiling.

Washing clothes was one of the most tedious tasks any woman in Edoras or the whole of Rohan knew. It required a strong back and a lot of patience. Clothes needed to be boiled, washed with strong lye soap and rinsed several times. Drying them was the easiest part, as the sun took care of that.

Aefwyn went through the process with her thoughts wandering. She had replayed her conversation with Éomer in her head at least a dozen times by now. It yielded her little in the form of actual new insights, but somehow she couldn't help herself.

After finishing with her clothes, Aefwyn headed towards the market place. She found some beautiful hair ornaments and was considering two options when she heard a chorus of familiar voices behind her.

"Good morning to you, Aefwyn." This was Éowyn, a smile in her voice and another on her face.

"What are those?" That one was definitely Éomer. Aefwyn turned around and greeted the siblings as friendly.

To Éomer she replied:

"These are for one's hair. I happen to need a new one, but I cannot decide between these two." Both combs were simple and carved of wood. They were suitable for the likes of Aefwyn: poor working women who had no need or the means to purchase the more expensive ones carved of bone or ivory.

Both pieces were still of excellent craftsmanship. They were perhaps four inches wide with spikes at regular interwals. The spikes were carved out of a crescent-shaped piece of wood and were slightly longer in the middle than on the edges. The handles were decorated with pretty carvings, the other with a flower pattern and the other with a Rider on his horse in full gallop.

"They are both beautiful." Éowyn said, inspecting them more closely.

"The horse looks very realistic." This caught Éomer's attention.

"Let me see." He looked very closely at the Rider and the horse and praised the shopkeep after finding them both accurate. The little man behind the counter smiled widely. He had of course recognized the royal siblings and undoubtedly felt doubly blessed now that they had been seen at his shop and he had also received a compliment from them.

"Why won't you have them both then?" Éomer asked.

"If I only had the money, perhaps I would. But I can only afford one, so I must decide. There are other things I need, and only so little to buy it with. Even though I'd love to have them both, I cannot squander my money." She never discussed money with her friends, which was possibly why Éomer had never come to think about her financial situation and that she couldn't afford everything she wanted like he did.

"Perhaps the one with flowers, it's a beautiful summer theme." Éowyn nudged her brother in a kind reminder to stop with the current subject.

"Sure, the simbelmynë on it are very beautifully carved."

Aefwyn smiled at the two and made her purchase. The shopkeep wrapped the comb in a piece of linen for her and they left.

After a while Éomer remembered he needed to check out one of Firefoot's hooves; it had been troubling the horse the previous day and he'd made a poultice he now wanted to check. They said their goodbyes and Aefwyn and Éowyn continued their little tour together.

They stood a while in front of a booth that sold laces and ribbons in every colour and complexity imaginable. The prices were a bit on the high side for Aefwyn, but Éowyn bought two lengths of pale blue ribbon and a yards length of pretty lace. The woman who sold them said the pattern was a Gondorian one she had seen some years ago and redone. It was airy and delicate, and Éowyn fell in love with it the second she saw it.

Perhaps one hour past midday they parted ways in front of Meduseld. Aefwyn went to pick up her laundry and Éowyn disappeared within the hall. They'd had an enjoyable day and Aefwyn was smiling widely when she reached the laundry room.

After she'd stopped by her room she went into the kitchen to eat some late lunch. The kitchen was rather quiet: it was not quite yet the time to be preparing dinner and most maids were elsewhere attending to other tasks.

The big trestle tables were thus almost empty apart from a few other maids that had a free day today. There was Iadre, a girl perhaps two years older than Aefwyn, who had a little bastard boy with some Rider. She lived with her mother near the gate. The second woman was Friede, who was perhaps twenty-five and was married to one of Théodred's Riders. They were both nice women with a lot of common sense and little tolerance for idle gossip. The third woman Aefwyn liked less: she was Aegnes, who was in her late thirties and very close with Odwyn. She was a gossiper at heart and liked nothing more than to give someone else a bad name.

Aefwyn sat with Iadre and Friede, who were sitting near to the windows. Aegnes looked a bit sour, like she always did, but seemed to be deep in thought. She had never bothered Aefwyn, and the chances to that were anyway slim now that everyone knew she had made friends with Éowyn and Éomer. She was nonetheless a dangerous woman.

They ate and talked. Friede was glad her husband had returned home safe, and smiled knowingly to Aefwyn. She brushed it off, knowing most other maids thought she was having a hot affair with Éomer. It wasn't true, but she already knew people liked to believe what they thought they saw. And, most people thought they saw Éomer look at Aefwyn in a certain, very private and very knowing, way. Aefwyn laughed at these assumptions, but usually said very little to dissuade people as she knew that never worked, except to perhaps make them more certain they were right.

Iadre and Friede teased her in a friendly manner. They had their first-hand experiences of Riders, and some of their jokes were a bit on the crude side. Aefwyn felt a blush creeping up her neck and was relieved when they saw her unease and changed the subject. It had been a good-humored exchange, but Aefwyn knew that wasn't the last one she'd have to suffer.

Iadre and Friede finished before her and left the table after their goodbyes. Aegnes and Aefwyn were the last to remain in the room, and silence fell.

Aefwyn hastily finished her meal and rose. She took her plate and utensils to the pail used to wash them. Iadre and Friede had left their plates there and Aefwyn added hers to the small amount of dishes present. Aegnes stepped next to her and placed her plate in the pail also.

"You know Aefwyn, I've always thought you too shy to attract male attention. But overhearing what you just talked about with Friede and Iadre it seems I have been mistaken. And you jump right to the big fish!"

Aegnes' tone was conspiratorial. Her soft voice was barely above a whisper, but every syllable was still clearly audible.

"Friede and Iadre think what they think. It doesn't make it truth." Her voice was flat. This was not a subject she wanted to discuss with Aegnes of all people.

"And you expect us to believe you and the handsome captain have not rolled in the hay?" Aegnes smiled. Her lips were full and she had on her customary knowing smile. She was a pretty woman with a long braid of silky golden hair. Her hair was very light and slightly wavy and it was undoubtedly her most beautiful feature.

"You can believe what you will, but the lord Éomer has not laid a hand on me."

"Mm… You should let him try, at least. I hear it is a pleasurable experience." Aegnes winked and sashayed away, her green linen skirt trailing behind her in a sensuous manner.

Aefwyn stood perfectly still, her head turned to watch the woman go. Aegnes had never married and had no children, but men had always liked her company. It was no wonder it would be Aegnes of all Odwyn's cronies to give her such advice.

A thought sped through her mind whether this was actually Odwyn's way of testing her. Éowyn had told her of what Odwyn had said of girls having dalliances with Riders every chance they got, and suspected Odwyn still wanted an excuse to fire her.

If she would indeed be caught red-handed, Odwyn would have a reason to send her away. No matter that most girls working in Meduseld had had an affair or two with some comely young Rider. Odwyn had after all her own reasons to dislike Aefwyn and to want her gone, whatever they were.

Aefwyn felt a cold shiver in her spine. It made the hair on her arms rise on end and even in the warmth of the kitchens she suddenly felt very cold.

Odwyn would give her no mercy, not even with Éowyn and Éomer by her side. If Odwyn thought she was having an affair with Éomer, it would be the end of her work here. And what could she do then?

* * *

><p>AN: This isn't the longest chapter ever, partly because I didn't really know what else to say at this point that wouldn't take another 2k words. Aefwyn is scared of Odwyn. She loves her life the way it currently is, and Odwyn is really the only person that can ruin it at this point. I'd be afraid too. And she reminds me of my boss, and she is one scary woman.

The next chapter won't hopefully take this long in coming. Hopefully.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Here it is. Yet another one I found a bit tricky.

Anyway, here's a taste of Éomer for you.

* * *

><p>The morning dawned bright and sunny. Éomer awoke with the sun and was out and about as soon as he could. First he went to the stables to see Firefoot and after an hour spent with his horse he wandered inside the hall. There the tables were being set up for breakfast, and Éomer joined the small group of people waiting for the serving.<p>

Among them was his cousin Théodred, and he and Éomer were soon lost in a lively conversation about the defenses of western Rohan. The Gap of Rohan, as it was known, was the area between the White Mountains and the Misty Mountains. The main point of Rohan's western defense had for several centuries been the Ford of Isen, a crossing over the River Isen that flowed down from Isengard and the Misty Mountains.

The people of Rohan had for a long time believed that Isengard was also a part – albeit at best a passive part – of Rohan's defenses. No one was absolutely certain of this by late, but there hadn't been any development of that particular situation they were aware of.

The pair sat at one of the tables, at the end closer to the big central hearth. The fire in the hearth was lit, but it was not big, as it was summer and the weather was warm. A waft of smoke floated towards the opening in the ceiling.

Even during summer, the hall was dark and hid many shadowy corners. The high walls supported by the massive oaken pillars sunk in the foundations sported many hangings depicting the history of Rohan. The most magnificent piece was the one that portrayed Eorl the Young astride his horse. It was a glorious hall, with smoke-darkened walls and a high ceiling, truly a fitting hall for a king.

They talked for a while more of military matters, but soon their talk found another subject both men were fond of: women. Théodred was known to woo many a maiden, with a moment or two of fun in his mind, and his ruggedly good looks made this an easy task. Théodred was a bit shorter than Éomer, a muscular man with a warrior's stance even when he sat there and ate with a smile ready on his lips. Théodred was also of a bit darker stock than his golden-haired cousin, with a mahogany tint in his hair. His skin was tanned to a healthy bronzy hue from all his time on horseback.

Théodred had a new girl in town, like he always seemed to have. There was a dreamy look in his eyes when he talked about his maid. Éomer still suspected that even this romance would end in heartbreak. Théodred liked the company of the fairer sex, but never expressed a wish to have a wife and a family.

"And you, Éomer, any news? I must admit I've heard quite a few rumors of you and a certain servant, but I'd rather hear it from you." Théodred winked lewdly.

"Hardly anything worth gossiping about, cousin. She is an old friend of me and my sister. And that is the end of it." Théodred gave him an amused look.

"Your eyes betray you, cousin dear." Éomer sighed.

"I do care for her. But nothing good would come of me trying to woo her." This time he kept his gaze levelly on his cousin's eyes.

"Is she not then subject to your charms?" Théodred didn't take the conversation seriously, always the jester he was, and was turning the discussion into a joke.

"I guess she's not any more subject to them as anyone else. But she is a friend of Éowyn's too. And I must consider the feelings of my sister."

Théodred mulled about this for a moment and took a healthy gulp of mead.

"And what does Éowyn say of your predicament?"

"Éowyn need not know." He knew Théodred was just as likely to go and talk to Éowyn. Whatever he would say Éomer couldn't fathom, but he would not get the end of it in any case.

"I see you truly are infatuated." Théodred was over ten years his senior, but his youthfulness and carelessness made him usually seem not much older than Éomer. The younger man knew however, that it would take him a few more years to gain as steely nerves in battle as Théodred had.

"I guess I am. We ride out again in a week. Before that I thought to give her this." He took out a small object wrapped in a piece of linen.

Théodred opened the wrapping and exposed a comb, carved out of wood and decorated with the figure of a horse and a Rider.

"It's… quite simple." Théodred's taste was more decorous, and his gifts usually rather lavish.

"If I bought her a comb of ivory she could never wear it. She is still a maiden of low stature and birth."

"That's true. What made you buy her this?"

"She thought it pretty." Théodred laughed.

"You are really something."

o0o

After breaking his fast Éomer wandered around aimlessly. Certainly he could have headed for the practice field where Riders were always perfecting their weapon skills. But he was in no mood for banter, having heard his fill of Edoras' favorite rumor from Théodred.

Indeed, it seemed like his friendship with Aefwyn was not taken as innocent by the general populace of Rohan as it was for the participants of the alleged affair.

He turned the problem around in his head, for a millionth time as it seemed.

His presence in Aefwyn's life caused rumors that by definition made Aefwyn's life within Meduseld harder. Granted, her nearest friends, both the royal siblings and her closest work companions, knew the rumors to be unfounded. They were the only ones, though.

After a while he found himself in the library. It was not a grand room, as books were few and far between in Rohan, but the walls were nonetheless covered with bookshelves. Most of the books were about warfare, as one might expect from a nation of warriors.

His uncle was perusing a map by the window. The window had a view over the plains, and it was the primary source of light in the room. The fire in the fireplace was not lit, so the room was at best rather dim.

Théoden looked up as he entered, still a handsome man even in his sixties. Looking at his face, one could see where Théodred had inherited his looks from.

"Ah, Éomer. This is not a room one oft sees you in."

"Uncle. It is as much a surprise to me as it is to you." Théoden smiled. He was seated by the table near the window, several maps in front of him. As Éomer neared the table he saw most of the maps were portraying Westemnet.

"Have a seat." Théoden pointed at the chair opposite of his at the other end of the table. Éomer took his seat.

"I have received quite a few messages of strange folk moving near the river Isen. Many Riders have seen them from afar, heading to and from Isengard." Théoden pointed at the mark on the map.

"No news from Saruman though, so I'd not worry over it too much." Théoden brushed at the map, as if dismissing the last grim thoughts with the gesture. The king looked suddenly very sternly at Éomer.

"But you should learn to keep your hands to yourself. I keep hearing from some servant of mine you're seeing more often than your old uncle." Éomer chuckled and watched his uncle's face melt into a smile.

"As I thought."

"Not everything you hear is true. I can promise you I have nothing going on with any servant of yours." Éomer shot a stern look at his uncle, a look that screamed "_Leave it be, old man"_.

"That is not what my son told me."

Théoden and Théodred were indeed similar. Only Valar knew how many times the father and son duo had wrecked the lives of many an unsuspecting Rider by pairing said Rider with a strong-willed woman. It was well known in Edoras that these two could surprise even the most wary man. Éomer could already see that it was no coincidence both men had brought up the same topic.

"And I thought you had a bride looked out for me. Don't try anything, old man." Théoden laughed, clearly unfazed by Éomer's retort.

"I won't be doing anything. But on the issue of your bride, well, there is not many news."

"So Lord Imrahil is not too keen on giving his daughter over to an uncivilized Horselord?" Théoden shot a mockingly disgruntled glance his way.

"No. But that is not surprising and I am sure your informant has already told you as much." Éomer cocked his eyebrow.

"I assume you have also other plans."

"The times are dire. I should much like to see little feet running around Meduseld before I'm too feeble to enjoy being a great-uncle, or a grandfather for that matter. If only my son had as much interest in staying with one woman as he has on trying them all out." Théoden seemed wexed, and Éomer could suddenly see the worries his uncle carried on his shoulders. The king was afraid to see his bloodline end in his son. If his own blood failed, the burden had to be passed on to the offspring of his dear little sister.

"If needs be, I'll marry you to that servant girl of yours." There was more than a little jest in Théoden's tone, but his eyes were keen and serious.

"I shan't object to any bride you push my way as long as she's not too harsh on the eyes. But think twice before deciding Aefwyn should want a royal match."

"Is she stubborn then?"

"Not as much stubborn than persistent, I believe."

"A good feature in a woman. To be quite honest with you, Éomer, I'd much rather see you wedded to a good girl of Rohan than to some noblewoman of Gondor. Just so she would be a match to your spirit if nothing else." Théoden reached for his goblet and found it empty.

"I must needs go find something else. Think of what I said, Éomer. Act before I do."

Being thus dismissed, Éomer headed towards the hall. It had been a few hours since he'd last eaten, and a bowl of that hare soup he smelled cooking wouldn't hurt. When he received his dish he found his nose hadn't betrayed him. It was indeed a soup of hare, carrots and onions, boiled with red wine so it was rich and brownish in color.

Théoden had made clear his intentions indeed. If Éomer wouldn't act soon and find a good bride his uncle would choose a girl for him. Whoever knew how that would turn out? Théodred had obviously won the battle of wills with his father and had thus left Éomer as the only prey left to pursue. That was indeed what it felt like: Théoden was trying to tire him down to get his consent to marry some girl.

But to whom could he propose to? There weren't many young women in Edoras with an appropriate pedigree. And those few Éomer hardly even considered as possible spouses. There was of course Féawyn, a daughter of a rather wealthy merchant, who Éomer thought was especially pleasing to the eye. But, unfortunately to Féawyn, Éomer had also talked with her and found her about as interesting as a bag of oats.

The only girl Éomer could really imagine marrying and enjoy being married to was Aefwyn. And her birth and station were much lower than was appropriate. Undoubtedly Aefwyn could govern a household of this magnitude, but would the other servants obey her when they knew her an upstart?

If there could be a way, however, to convince everyone that Aefwyn was a servant only out of miserable luck? No one knew her father. A nobleman's bastard was much better than a head maid's bastard. Bastard girls of high enough descent had been known to marry minor nobility, and that was exactly what Éomer at the moment was: he was not a prince, but merely lord over the lands surrounding Aldburg. It wasn't a huge plot of land, due to Edoras being only a few days' ride away.

Suddenly Éomer felt a surge of determination. He should try to find out more of Aefwyn's father. The more he knew, the more believable a tale he could fabricate.

And as suddenly as the thoughts had bubbled to the surface of his mind he popped them. Was he seriously contemplating marrying his friend? And more importantly, a dear and a rare friend to his sister?

He was.

The thought was so sudden and so strong it almost made him choke on his soup.

It was what he really wanted to do.

But before any such goal as marriage could be reached, he needed to solve a few very serious problems. How could he find out enough of Aefwyn's past without making it suspicious? And more importantly, what was he going to say to Aefwyn about what he found? And the most important one was of course how to get Aefwyn to agree to the idea of marriage in the first place?

* * *

><p>AN: It is rather obvious to me that the remaining members of Éomer's family are very close to him. And this most definitely is not the first fic to make Théoden into a match-maker. That is, also, very traditionally a thing a king does. He makes good profitable matches to his offspring, of course to preserve the wealth and power of his house.

I also needed to come up with a way to make this match made in heaven seem possible. Because when you think about it, rags to riches stories don't happen that often in real life.

This story doesn't surprisingly contain any Aefwyn. I meant to write her in, but when I got to the point where I wanted to do it, it just didn't fit in this one.

I have a few alternative ideas on how I want this to go. Let's see which one makes it to paper, as they all look great at the moment. I just have to tackle that final fence now: what do I make out of Aefwyn's father? He has been in a similar role in my head since the very beginning, but even now when I know the outlines of how I want to use him in this story I don't actually know how to get it to happen. So, it might be a while in the making of the next chapter or two, unfortunately.

And yea, I too finally noticed the line breaks are not working. I hope it works as intended from now on.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hello again! I was terribly ill during Easter and no matter the will, I could get nothing done for the whole week after. This chapter took it's form during that time however, in my head atleast. That doesn't mean it was an easy one to write. Combine that with the fact I've been working my butt off for the last couple of weeks equals one chapter very long in making.

* * *

><p>It had been nearly a week since Éomer had made his mind about everything.<p>

He had decided that if Aefwyn only was willing, he should marry her. He felt in his heart she would bring him happiness.

Facing the reality of what he was about to embark to had done little to quell his enthusiasm. Éomer knew that without a certain knowledge of Aefwyn's background something unexpected and unwanted could always emerge, and thus it had been the task of finding out the truth of Aefwyn's father had become his first priority.

Before knowing the truth he dared not speak to Aefwyn about his hopes. So he had kept his peace and had said nothing, even when the words he left unsaid almost choked him sometimes. He was adamant to make sure nothing important escaped his lips before he was ready to say it.

They spent all her free time together. That time was oft sparse now that summer warmth had made new life bloom. Almost every cow, lamb, goat and pig – and every other animal as well, it seemed – in Edoras had had their young, and those that had not would soon. There were also many mares with their foals kept in pens outside the gates, safe from predators but able to feed on the new green summer grass.

Summer was also a time for stocking up for the winter.

This meant that the servants of the Golden Hall had their hands full. Not only did they have their usual tasks of cleaning and serving, but also the work of preserving, growing and harvesting many an herb and plant. There were of course a special part of the staff, the gardeners, to take care of the harvesting and caring of the plants, but the preservation fell to the kitchen staff.

Aefwyn thus spent her days toiling in the steamy kitchens, boiling this and that or preparing every sort of vegetable and meat possible.

Certainly, the restocking of the Hall's pantries was a task that would take up the best part of the servants' summer. There were different plants to be stored from first months of summer well into autumn. The last stretch of their work was the preparation of the Harvest Feast. The Feast was held when all the butchering and preparing had been done, and it was always a raucous celebration of a bountiful harvest. The pantries would by then be overflowing, and the Feast followed suit: Éomer knew from experience that people would eat and drink themselves to a stupor.

However busy Aefwyn was during the day – the increased workload meant that the servants who rose at sunrise were not released from their duties before dusk was already creeping in – she always had a moment or two to spend with Éomer and Éowyn. More often than not, Éowyn was busy supervising everything, and Aefwyn and Éomer found each other by themselves. They would usually just sit and joke, as even Éomer understood how Aefwyn would want to stay off her legs after standing in the kitchens the whole day.

If Aefwyn was busy, Éomer was not. That was about to change however, because the day after tomorrow he would leave for the last tour before Yule. It would not be a long one, just a quick fortnight to Gap of Rohan and back, to see the garrison there. The garrison was not a big one, only thirty men or so, but no more were necessary. It was now a time of peace, and the other end of the Gap was held by Saruman the White in his tower of Orthanc.

He had done a lot in his free time, as by nature he was an active man. He had sent one of his Riders to Aldburg to see what truths were still there to be found out. Before Théodred had left three days ago they had discussed the matter in detail, and Théodred had promised to aid him if it was still needed when he returned.

Éomer had also spent a great deal of time between the library and his chambers, reading books and studying maps. His gut told him something was afoot, but he had no idea what it could be. Because of the constant patrolling of Rohan's borders, orcs had lessened their attacks somewhat, and there had been only a few isolated incidences during the last month. Éomer knew that the orcs had not gone away, and this fragile peace of sorts could not last long.

Éomer picked up the linen-wrapped comb from his desk, weighing it yet again in his hand. Tonight he would give it to Aefwyn.

But what to say to her? He had never felt this insecure about something.

o0o

Dusk was creeping in when Aefwyn was finally finished. She took off the stained apron and stretched her aching back. It felt like she hadn't sat in ages.

She went to the hall and sat by the fire. Her ankles were swollen, a sure sign she had been on her feet for too long. Her muscles throbbed as blood began to circulate in parts where its flow had been restricted for that long. The length of her calves and her thighs felt like she had walked for miles, and that was probably true as well.

Today she'd been given the task of preparing jam from all sort of early fruits and berries. She had prepared countless jars of the sweet preserves made of small sweet strawberries. Strawberry was the earliest berry of the season, and a group of women had went out to gather several bushels over the weeks.

As surprising it was to know, Aefwyn had learned that the king enjoyed a slice of toast bread with strawberry jam nearly every morning. Many people in Meduseld shared the king's sweet tooth and preserves were an easy help to that.

Yule hadn't been celebrated yet, and Aefwyn knew that only after the mid-year feast would the servant's work begin in earnest. Thus far, when many plants were still growing, only a small portion of the lands and gardens had produced fruit. However, there were many plants that were at their best during early summer, and the storerooms had to be properly cleaned and aired to make sure everything remained in good condition.

Aefwyn had taken part in cleaning the storerooms. For potatoes and carrots and turnips there was a large room dug halfway to the ground where the vegetables were stored piled in big wooden pens of a sort. Aefwyn could have gone to lay on her back into one and not reach the edges with either hand or foot.

Now the rooms were still quite empty. The last roots and jars of previous year were stored in baskets rather than anything bigger than that, and everyone was eagerly awaiting the chance to have the first bite of the new harvest.

Her increased workload had had quite a lot of consequences. She had very little free time, and would only be getting more after yule. There was a lull in activity after mid-year, and that meant she would even have time to see the sun before it set.

At times she felt like a big white worm that had wormed up from the ground. She felt like she hadn't seen any sun in weeks and was up to her ears of the kitchen gossip. The servants gossiped all the time, but now Aefwyn had heard all of the rumors so many times and at times in so ridiculous forms she didn't care to hear any more.

She also would have wanted more time with her friends. No matter that most other servants were friendly towards her, Odwyn still seemed to be keeping a stern eye on her and the head maid's cronies were ever so eager to show her in bad light: they knew Odwyn didn't like her all that much.

She got her fill of the hall and rose again. She let out a low groan as her muscles reminded her of every single step she had taken during the day. Despite her aching muscles she made it out the doors and sat by the stairs.

Sun was setting in the west, the sky taking on the deeper shades of night. She let out a sigh of contentment. Despite the wealth of work, she was happy here. All her years working for her mother she had learned the work inside and out and not even Odwyn could deny how diligent she was.

The door opened again behind her, but she was deep in thought. Only the nearing footfalls that stopped behind her pulled her back.

"I have been waiting for you to be released." Éomer sat next to her.

"As you know, I'll be riding out again the day after the tomorrow." He was silent for a moment before continuing.

"I wanted to give you this." He handed her a bundle of linen cloth. She looked at him briefly before unwrapping the present.

"You bought it." The comb was just as beautiful as she had remembered. She had taken to wearing the flower comb she had bought and lamenting she had not bought the one with the Rider. And here it was.

"Thank you, Éomer." She smiled, and he smiled back.

"I saw how much you liked it." Éomer seemed a little tense beneath his good cheer.

"That didn't require you to buy it for me." It was a gentle reproach, but also a question.

"I wanted to." He was again silent and Aefwyn chose not to probe further. When he continued, he sounded a bit surprised to hear his own voice.

"I wanted you to have something to remember me by when I'm gone. There are clouds gathering in the east, I can feel it in my bones."

The words were ominous and Aefwyn was for a moment at a loss of a reply.

"I would remember you even without it. Nevertheless, I shall wear it." She took the other comb from her hair, redid her bun and placed the Rider in her hair.

Éomer smiled then, and the tension in him seemed to lessen. He lifted his hand and brushed a stray lock behind her ear.

"Just as I imagined." It was barely a whisper, but she heard him. She cast her eyes to her hands, nervous.

Suddenly, the air seemed to be brimming with a whole new kind of energy. Aefwyn felt her heart pumping frantically, fluttering in her chest like a butterfly. She heard her blood flowing loud and rushed in her ears.

Éomer seemed to be in a similar state and for the longest while neither spoke.

Just when she thought Éomer would finally break the silence the massive doors opened once more.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Éomer muttered a curse under his breath and turned to take a look.

Seeing who had come he rose to his feet. Aefwyn had looked too: it was Gamwise. She liked the man well enough; he was one of the king's guards. The guards stayed mostly in Edoras, but from time to time they too rode out. This ensured that every man was from time to time reminded of skills necessary in warfare, not only in defending.

"My lord, the king wants to see you." He gave a respectful nod of his head and retired to the door.

Éomer sighed.

"Good night, Aefwyn. I hope we shall talk again soon." She nodded and bid him goodnight.

After Éomer had gone, Aefwyn sat for a while more. First stars were just coming out and the sun had almost set. Little clouds were stained deep orange, and the western sky was a magnificent sight of yellow, red and orange.

She tried to figure out the rush of emotions she had felt after Éomer had touched her hair. She couldn't quite understand her reaction. Éomer was a friend, and even though she dreamed of him she couldn't let herself so easily believe any of her dreams could come true.

Éomer was an honorable man, but Aefwyn didn't want to end up last in the long line of girls that had been before her. And that was the only option there could ever be: he was of too noble a birth and she of too low.

This was a line of thought she had visited many times. And as usual, it gave her no new insight.

Perhaps after they'd have a chance to speak again.

* * *

><p>AN: So, sorry. No proposal yet. I kind of knew it wasn't going to be in this chapter, but he'll get to it, eventually. By the way, thank you for the review, juli 8D1819!

There are quite a few issues I have to work through with the next few chapters, so they may take a while in writing. I hope you'll be patient with me!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: First of all, I'm terribly sorry this took so long. This was a difficult chapter for me, and I kept running out of time with it.

Midsummer is a huge deal for my countrymen, and I was hard-pressed at work for a whole two weeks before. Top that of with graduating students and their parents throwing parties for them, and I've been too busy for my tastes. I missed out on June completely this year, sad to say :/

I was also planning to publish this before I went out of town for a week, but as it was then, the chapter was no good. Now I had fresh eyes for it, and hopefully you like the result.

* * *

><p>Théodred unmounted his horse with grace. He took a long look at his surroundings, noticing the little bits of disrepair that had crept over the ancient hall.<p>

He had finished his final tour of the borders before yule, and had instead taken it upon him to ride to Aldburg, to aid his cousin. Éomer was certain Aldburg would shed light to Aefwyn's past, and Théodred was romantic enough to want to make his cousin happy. So, here he was.

Aldburg was the hereditary estate of Éomund's line, and now in the possession of Éomer, who rarely visited. Éomer liked Edoras better than his ancestral seat, and hadn't been here probably since his mother had died.

No one came to welcome him. The hall was indeed empty. The servants still remaining in Éomer's service didn't live within the hall's walls.

Since Théodred was no stranger to work he took his horse to the stable himself, and found the building to still be in decent shape. There was hay in the loft, he noticed, and a few small sacks of grain hung from the rafters, to protect them from rodents.

He chose a stall for his horse and climbed to the loft. After tossing down some hay and a sack of grain he had disentangled from the rafters he gave his horse a quick brush. Then he set out to take a closer look at the hall itself.

It had been expanded a number of times, but the original long hall was as it had been in Eorl the Young's day. The rafters were black with soot, the hangings were bit frayed at places, but clean. The huge trestle tables that would have otherwise filled the hall had been lifted away from the middle of the room, into the shadows by the walls.

He took a tour around the house and found all rooms in impeccable order if not a little dusty. The servants' quarters were a bit smaller than Meduseld, but the individual rooms were larger. He opened a door to a small chamber, and somehow instantly knew it to have been Aefwyn's. Its air seemed to hold a quantity of the young woman still. It was empty, lacking every sign of inhabitance. It hadn't been left in a hurry, all the drawers in the small chest of drawers were closed, the quilt on the bed immaculately folded and the small chair under the desk neatly.

The next room was larger and Théodred guessed it had belonged to Aefwyn's mother, the head maid. It wasn't as vacated as the other room: it seemed like all of Eadgifa's belongings were still in place.

This might be exactly what he'd been looking for. No need to interview old crones, perhaps?

Théodred felt only a short stab of guilt when he opened the first drawer. He had been taught to respect the personal space of others, as even Meduseld was often crowded with guests. He didn't like in the least to go through anyone's personal items, and even less a dead woman's.

The topmost drawer seemed to hold a clutter of parchment scraps riddled with notes, a few letters bound with a thong, some half-burnt candle sticks and an assortment of buttons. Théodred looked through a couple of the note slips, but they seemed to be stock on the stores of the hall, little lists with numbers and words like 'bolt of linen' written after them. He set the notes back in and picked up the letters.

He pondered a brief moment whether he should just take them to Aefwyn or Éomer and just not read them himself, but in the end his curiosity got the better of him and he opened the thong.

There were five letters in total, on parchment yellowed by age. None of them had any writing on the outside and no seal. He opened the first one and sat by the small table.

Judging by the hand-writing this one was from a woman. He almost set it aside until the words struck his eye.

_Are you going to tell the truth? I strongly suggest you do not leave her in the dark, for that shall be in the benefit of none._

Now what was this? Théodred squinted closer but couldn't make out the words. The parchment had been smeared, but whether by the writer or the recipient, he couldn't tell. It seemed as if at least three words had been struck out, and he could only make out faint scrapings from the quill. One of the words might have been _father_, but he wasn't sure. The end of the sentence ran on undisturbed:

_you cannot dream to deny her that what passes to her by right. You cannot change what happened, but undeniably it was for the best._

_Eadgifa, I write this to you not as a lady, but as a friend. Heed my advice, and in the end you will have naught to regret. You cannot plan to go to your grave silent and let her remain as she is._

The letter was unsigned. He read the beginning again, but before the plain question of truth the letter sounded just like gossiping to him, just on paper. Some of these names could be matched to people in the Mark though, and that might lead him to the lady writer of the letter.

The second letter was from the same woman and in contents a close match to the first. Unlike the first one, this featured a name of a male, however.

_Ceadric asks for you in his lucid moments. Will you not write to him?_

It was written as a post scriptum. The events, if they had a connection to Aefwyn, had happened well in his adulthood, but he recalled no noble by the name of Ceadric. However, he had to be of relation to the lady to be in her letter.

Then again, why was a lady writing to a servant? Even one in a position such as Eadgifa's was far below even the lowliest noble.

Was it so, that Eadgifa had been disgraced by some lordling? That Aefwyn was a nobleman's bastard? The conditions of her birth were no secret; the only question was who had fathered her. And it was true Théodred knew nothing of Eadgifa's past before Aldburg. It was possible Eadgifa had not been a mere servant, like the ones scurrying about with trenchers, but perhaps more like a lady's handmaid.

That position had some elevation amongst servants. It might as well be possible for a lady to write letters to her former handmaid, even one impregnated by the lady's brother, or father, or any available male relative.

The last three letters were all penned by a different hand, and proved to be most interesting of the bunch. The writer, it was clear, was this man Ceadric. The letters were unsigned, a good precaution if his assumptions were correct, but the concept was clear.

They seemed a bit too close to love letters for Théodred to feel comfortable reading them, so he just skimmed over them.

Each and every one began with an apology, and ended in the hopeful plea for Eadgifa to forgive Ceadric. One even featured a crude proposal, clearly left unanswered as after a few sentences the young suitor complained her lack of replies.

It seemed to Théodred some letters were missing, and he set to look through the rest of the room. The search proved futile what came to letters, but he did find a locket wrought of silver. It contained a painting of a young man and a young woman. The woman had a similar look as Aefwyn and was probably her mother, but the man was a stranger.

He was a handsome man, but his eyes were full of insanity. The locket looked unworn, and it had been wrapped in a small square of silk. It had been hidden deep within one drawer; so far back he'd almost missed it completely.

This was clearly Aefwyn's father, then, and the locket most likely a gift from whoever had written the first two letters, this unnamed lady.

He wasn't a robust fellow, even the tiny painting made as much clear, and his skin was pale from time spent indoors. It would certainly explain why this Ceadric was a stranger to Théodred: the Rohirrim enjoyed most tales from the battlefield. Stories and legends of military prowess were popular in Rohan, and the most memorable ones were retold often enough for most children to know them by heart before they could even sit a horse properly.

Théodred took the letters and the locket with him. He intended to speak to the elder servants and ask questions, but these would next be shown to Aefwyn and Éomer.

He walked outside to the ruddy evening light. The hour was later than what he would have preferred, and it was clearly too late to pay anyone any visits today. He went to the stables to see to his horse and to pack away his evidence.

His stallion looked at him quite irritably and he spent the next hour grooming the horse and feeding him. After finishing with his mount he took some hard bread and cheese from his saddlebags and fetched a pitcher of cool water from the well.

Théodred had the intention of finding the library and eating there, but it proved a bit more difficult task than he'd expected: the door to the library was locked and the key was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he doubled back and ate in the great hall in from of a small fire he'd lit.

oOo

The next morning Théodred set out to find the key. After an hour of digging through the rooms he finally found it. The library had clearly been closed since Théoden King had fetched his niece and nephew. Surfaces were covered with a layer of fine dust, but miraculously the place had not been plundered by mice or rats.

The room had a single window, barred with heavy wooden shutters. He opened them and took a look around the room. It wasn't very big, and housed perhaps twenty or thirty books. There was a perhaps an equal amount of scrolls about. It was a modest library, all in all, but books were expensive.

This room had an air for secrets; he decided and set to work.

He went through most of the books, leafing through the pages to find hidden papers within. Unsurprisingly, that proved a futile effort, but nonetheless he set out for the scrolls next.

The scrolls proved more useful. Within one was a letter, and it was clearly part of the same set that he'd found in Eadgifa's chambers. After trifling through the rest he'd found four more letters.

He read a few from the nameless lady, and discovered a few interesting tidbits from within. Something that had happened after Aefwyn's conception and Eadgifa's arrival in Aldburg had caused Ceadric to lose his mind. The lady had sent the locket to Eadgifa from Ceadric, and spent three lines praising the artist because in her opinion the paintings looked very alike. The painter who'd done the pictures had been from Edoras. This in particular brought a smile to Théodred's face: a painter in Edoras was much easier to find than one in, say, Gondor.

Only two of these letters were from Ceadric. These were of a later stock than the ones he'd found the previous day, as in one he inquired after the child. The other was even more persistent in the matter of their offspring, he noted after skimming through it: the man insisted he wanted to name the child his heir.

But still, not even these five new letters brought any new knowledge of the identity of their writers beyond Ceadric's name.

It was more than a little frustrating.

Théodred thus left the library and the hall. Outside, the sun had just crossed its zenith, and the weather was perfect. He took another long look at the hall, taking in its carved wooden façade, the smaller buildings that formed a protective circle around the central yard and the imposing wooden gate through which a narrow road led through the city of Aldburg towards the west.

Aldburg was considerably quieter than in its heyday, and the death of its lord had made it quite a subdued city. Thus even during daytime the streets were nearly empty, only a few children were playing outside. Asking a few choice questions from the children he was soon able to locate one of the servants that had worked for his aunt.

The woman lived in a small timber house flanked by a vegetable garden in the other side and a gnarly oak in the other. She was outside, squatting in the garden when he walked up to the house.

"Good day to you, mistress!" He called.

"Might we talk?" She rose and dusted her skirts.

"And who might you be?" Her tone wasn't unfriendly, but suspicious. Strangers were rare here, and suspicion was better than turning up dead.

"It matters not, but I'm on an errand for your Lord, Éomer son of Éomund." Giving out his real name would only make the woman shut up tighter than a clam.

"Aye? Well, the Lord hasn't been here for a while, might he have a need of his servants now?" She however gestured him to sit on the bench by her door. She sat next to him, still eyeing him warily.

"Not quite now, apart from a few answers." Théodred knew that a bookkeeper Éomer had hired rode here twice a year to pay the servants what they were owed, but otherwise Éomer troubled himself rarely over his seat.

The woman harrumphed at him, but nevertheless gave him an expectant look.

"You had a head maid here by the name of Eadgifa. Where was she from?"

"I was working for his lordship's grandfather when Eadgifa came here. She was a pretty slip of a woman, had been a maid to some highborn woman a ways east from here. Pregnant when she came, too. But the Lord's wife was kind and let her stay. She never mentioned to anyone any place she was from though, just said something vague about east if she was asked."

"Did she ever mention the child's father?" The woman shook her head, pursing her lips.

"No. She had quite a few people talking about her after she gave birth to that little girl of hers, but she never said a word about it."

"Did she have any close friends here?"

"Eadgifa kept to herself pretty much, and took care of the girl. There was this guardsman who showered her with attention, but I don't think she much cared of him. He was short of being engaged to this girl Odwyn before he took a liking to Eadgifa. Odwyn didn't take his wandering attentions too well and just left. That's the last I've heard of her."

"What happened to the guard?" She shot in a sideway glance before replying.

"He didn't live too long after that. Died in some raid or the other not half a year after. Eadgifa never paid him back any attention, but he just kept trying nonetheless."

"Thank you for your time, mistress." He rose to leave but the woman wasn't quite done yet.

"Now, m'lord, why is the Lord Éomer so interested in a servant?"

"It will suffice to say it is in his interest to know, mistress." The woman cocked her head and looked at him sharply, but finally nodded.

"Good day to you, m'lord." He replied in kind and left.

It was obvious there was nothing else to know in Aldburg. Whatever secrets Eadgifa had brought here had remained only hers until the very end. There had been valuable clues, and where there were clues there were people to answer a few questions.

First was the painter in Edoras. Despite being the capital city of Rohan, Edoras was not mightily large and housed only a handful of artists capable of work in this quality. It shouldn't prove too difficult to find a painter who had painted the two miniatures.

Also the locket was likely from Edoras too. It was fashioned after a popular model and had a beautiful carving at the front of roses.

Combine a face to a name and the knowledge that the man was insane, and there should be no issue remembering a name. And, to have painted Eadgifa, the man must have seen her too.

He smiled and went back to the stables to saddle his horse. It was a long way back home.

* * *

><p>AN: Now that we've got this truth out in the open... Well, it wasn't exactly how I had planned it originally. And it is possible the previous chapters still contain some misleading lines, however carefully I've tried to go over them and see everything matches up. Sorry about that, and please tell me if you find any mismatching lines, I'll make sure to fix it.

I also really hope you like my version of Théodred. I've always pictured him as a kind, humane man. Even if he's a bit jaded when it comes to women, but we can forgive him that.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This was a quick chapter to write in the end. It sat for a few weeks until I finished it in one sitting a couple nights ago. As good news, the next few chapters shouldn't be too far behind: I'm actually writing chapter 13 now.

This one is yet again quite Théodred-heavy. But I've come to like the rascal and it's pretty hard to let him go, especially when he is an invaluable asset :P This is part of a smaller arch within the story that spans from 10 to 13 at this point, so the finale to this arch is still a while in the making.

* * *

><p>"Good morning to you, cousin." Éomer looked up from his bowl of breakfast porridge and nodded a greeting to Théodred.<p>

"As you can see, I have returned from Aldburg. And I do so hope you appreciate my troubles." He placed his bundle in front of the younger man and sat by the table.

"What's this?"

"Well, my findings, of course!" Éomer's eyebrows knit together when he turned the bundle around and freed it from its covers.

"Letters and a trinket? That is all?"

"Well, besides the fact that your chosen is a real good housekeeper, that is all that is needed." Still frowning, Éomer opened the locket.

"A fine woman, but the man looks a bit scrawny. I take it that this is Eadgifa, but who is the man?" Théodred smiled and responded with a wide grin:

"That there, my good man, is the noble who fathered your desired bride." Éomer's eyes widened, and his pleased but shocked expression was all the reward Théodred needed for his trouble.

"Who is he? How did they know each other?"

"Well, this is the spot where the details prove a little fuzzy, at least until I can find the painter who made the pictures. But the man goes by the name of Ceadric, and Eadgifa was his sister's handmaid in her youth. The letters here tell as much." He poked at the yellowed parchments.

"Do you know where the painter is?"

"He is from Edoras, but that is all I know now. There must have been more letters, but they are not in Aldburg, for I would have found them."

"This is more than I dared hope for. Théodred, for all my optimism, I never really dared hope… It seemed to be so unlikely her father would be anything but a guardsman or a craftsman… If the painter is yet to be found, it would be an answer to everything I've wished." Éomer's eyes were dark and determined, his face a hardly contained mixture of hope, joy and the ever present fear of failure. Théodred had not asked of it, but he knew Éomer feared he wouldn't find an answer good enough for the king or the nobles of the realm.

Indeed, it was different to marry a nobleman's bastard than a serving wench, and indeed was it different to be certain of the truth than tell tales of questionable truthfulness to the king. Even if said king happened to be an uncle to Éomer. Théodred would have hesitated himself, had he no more proof when he'd have that audience.

oOo

Since the pair had considered it better to have Théodred pursue the truth rather than Éomer himself, it was Théodred who ventured to the city that morning with the locket tucked inside his shirt in a little pouch.

He mused over their conversation again. Éomer had been eager to go question every single painter in the city that same instant, but Théodred had convinced him of the folly of it.

Should it be known too early what Éomer planned, there would be people who'd oppose it so vehemently that even the king could hardly suppress their opinion. Even Rohan held noblemen who believed a commoner and a nobleman could and should never marry, that a union such as that would inevitably taint the noble houses irreversibly.

What the taint that such a union caused really was, Théodred didn't know. He was a soldier, a Rider, and his éored comprised of men he knew he could trust his life to, noble or common made no difference there. Had he a sister, he would gladly let her marry any one of them, noble or not. But the other nobles in the realm didn't consider the common farmers their equals the way Théodred usually did. He knew the benefits his position gave him and, besides talking his way under a girl's skirts, he never took advantage of them.

Whatever the nobles' reasons for disapproval really were, Théodred didn't want to stand in the way of the happiness of these two young ones. Aefwyn would not confess it aloud until she knew it would be safe, but Théodred had seen the look in her eyes when she was with Éomer, and he had seen the same look in his cousin's eyes every time he talked about her. It was love, this feeling he himself had ran away from since he had learned what it was.

Knowing what he knew, Théodred had told Éomer that the younger man should take no part in the search before he had found out all the necessary things: who was Aefwyn's father, was he noble enough to wipe away the stain of Aefwyn's bastard birth?

Should Éomer have a role in finding this truth, the nobles would roar their disapproval saying that the results of the search had been tampered with. But should the search be conducted by the heir to the throne, there would be no chance for opposition.

And so, Théodred thought as he walked down the road towards the gates, it was yet again his task to ask questions.

The first painter he visited said he would gladly claim ownership of such fine work, but that he hadn't painted the pictures. He pointed to Théodred another house down the street, the shop of a renowned painter.

"These pictures look like old Fargrim's work. He's the most talented painter in Edoras, even if it shames my work to say that."

Théodred thanked the man and walked on. Fargrim's shop was larger than the previous one, he noticed when he entered. There were several paintings on sale, hanged on the walls, and smaller painting painted on wood on the counters. They were scenes from the countryside near Edoras, little farming villages and Riders galloping past on their fine steeds.

Having heard his entrance, an elderly man entered the room from the back. The back room was hidden behind a curtain from the shop, but when the man came in Théodred saw a glimpse of a small yet cozy room.

The man Fargrim was old, well past his sixtieth year, balding and crook-backed. His eyes were sharp, his hooked nose even sharper, and he had probably never been a handsome man.

"How might I help your grace?" he asked nonetheless.

"First of all, I'd rather you just called me by my name. But I am not here for myself. Here, can you tell if you've painted this?" Théodred held out the locket, and the older man took it. He went to the window at the front of the shop and looked at the paintings in the morning light. The window didn't have a glass on it, but it could be closed with two heavy wooden shutters. Now it was open and shed light on the smaller paintings arranged in front of it to lure customers.

"It is my work, m'lord, but how did you come across it?" The man looked at him keenly.

"I found it when looking for a person. I need to know who the man is." Fargrim pursed his lips and weighed him with his sharp eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

"The man is called Ceadric. His stead was by the White Mountains near the Gap, called Highfort. His dead now though, if what I've heard is true."

Highfort was a familiar name for Théodred. It was located in a mountain pass above the Gap of Rohan, and had been a seat of a great family once. It had not been a big garrison even in its heyday, and even less so now. It was governed by a woman now, he recalled, a lady Maegwyn if his memory served.

"Did you paint these with live models?"

"I was well younger then, m'lord, and I travelled there to paint the man. The woman, however, I painted from another painting, of a much lower quality if I might say so." Fargrim looked at the picture with a healthy dose of professional pride.

"Do you happen to know any more details on the man?"

"Well, throughout my sessions with him he talked of the woman constantly. He wasn't well on the head; he had these fits of melancholy that drove him bedridden for days at a time. Took me three weeks to paint that thing, even though it's so small."

"Thank you, good master. This is indeed more than what I needed to know."

"You are welcome, your grace. It is indeed an honor to my house to have such esteemed visitors."

"I shall give good word of your work, master." With this, Théodred took his leave. It would be a good time to visit his father now.

oOo

Back in Meduseld, Théodred first relayed his findings to Éomer. Éomer had managed to talk to Aefwyn for a while after breakfast and had given her the letters. A slight blush in his cheeks showed the measure of the girl's thanks, even if Éomer only growled at him when he mentioned it.

His father was in his solar, a comfortable space with large windows giving out west. His father had a large oak table there for working and it was behind that desk Théoden King now sat.

"Good day, Father. Might I have a word?" Théoden smiled and nodded, wawing a hand towards a comfortable chair at his opposite.

"Now, what is it? Is one of the girls finally with child?" His father knew well of his adventures with the lady folk, and even if it was usually a source of quarrel between them, the question was now jovial.

"It is not a business of my own, Father, but Éomer's." He took out the locket from within his shirt, and showed it to the king.

"A fine piece of work."

"It was amongst the possessions of Aefwyn's mother. I do think, Father, that you know as well as I what Éomer plans with the girl."

"And I am indeed pleased of it. With you as an example I have been driven near desperation fearing he will follow your footsteps."

"Well, I present to you Aefwyn's father." He poked at the locket.

"Not the kind of trinket one could imagine finding from a servant's things, indeed. I gave your mother something similar once, but wrought of gold." Théoden smiled at the memory.

"The man is a noble called Ceadric from Highfort in the mountains."

"Ah, I have heard of him. A great lineage, but descended to little more than petty lordlings in the past decades. He went insane, I believe, and his sister governs his household."

"But he is alive? The painter told me he heard the man was dead." Théoden rubbed his finger over the filigree roses covering the locket, thoughtful.

"The last I heard of him was perhaps five years ago. It's true enough he might be dead now."

"If you don't mind, Father, I'd rather like to pay them a visit."

oOo

Aefwyn sat on her small cot and pulled the letters from one of the pouches on her belt. They were warm to her touch having been at close proximity to her body, and wrinkled in the corners from being stuffed in this or that device of storage several times since being written.

She let her fingers trace the paper ever so gently, almost feeling her mother's hand doing the same.

Slowly she opened one, at first not even reading but just looking at it. The words were written in a fine female hand, curvy and slightly slanted.

She read them all in one go, not noticing her muscles complaining of the position, not caring of the passing of time, unheeding of the tears running down her cheeks.

Théodred had brought her a great gift. Her mother had never mentioned any of this, and without Théodred she still wouldn't know.

Of course, Éomer had his hand in this too, and Aefwyn felt a blush creep up her cheeks remembering the exhilarated embrace they had shared. Éomer had been surprised, had stood still for a moment when she had wrapped her arms around his waist and then had ever so gently put his around her and pressed his cheek against her hair.

She blushed deeper when she remembered his warmth, the soft scent of hay and a bit stronger one of horse and above them all a scent of a slightly sweaty man.

It had not lasted long, and now she wished she would have dared stand there longer. But that was dangerous, and a poor payment of every trouble Éomer had gone through for them. If someone had seen them she would be in trouble, and Odwyn would feel no remorse for kicking her out of Meduseld. From that Éomer couldn't yet save her.

He had told her that Théodred had gone in search of the painter who had painted some pictures of her parents. She had not seen it yet because Théodred still had it, and she wasn't actually certain whether she wanted to.

She had imagined her father a thousand times, but now that she could see his likeness, she was no longer sure if she wanted to. Another dread grasped her then. What if her father was alive? What if he wouldn't want to see her? Wouldn't she be a disappointment, a simple servant who owned two sets of livery and little else?

The letters portrayed a man deeply in love, desperate for his love to return. What had turned her mother's heart away from him? Wouldn't a man so scorned be bitter?

* * *

><p>AN: The next chapter, as I said, is already written. I've even rewritten parts of it already (I started to see the fallacies in my logic about halfway through). I think I will need to keep you waiting for a few more days for that though, at least until I can finish ch. 13 and see that everything matches up.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hello again! As promised, here's chapter 12.

* * *

><p>The day was bright and both men were in good cheer. Their journey towards the Gap of Rohan was almost at an end.<p>

They were not alone, however, but in the company of twenty men on their way to take their turn in the garrison of the Gap. It was a permanent garrison, but the men keeping it changed about every half a year or so.

This made sure that men stayed on their guard but still got to know their surroundings. It also enabled men with families to this service, as they were not away from their homes for too long. The whole garrison was thirty strong, but not all men changed at the same time. The ten longer serving Riders would be relieved in the autumn.

Théodred and Éomer had both served some time at the garrison in the early days of their service to their homeland. They knew it was tedious at best, because travelers were few and far between, and even orcs knew to circle wide around the patrolled areas. In a time of peace, nothing could have been more wexing than guarding an outpost.

The next morning they bid their farewells to their companions and took a more south-bound course. The grass was high and waved like the ocean in the gentle breeze, the sign of the season being at its peak. Neither man had ever seen the ocean, but at a sight like this, both could imagine it.

Not before the long the terrain changed from the grassy plain to a more rocky ground. Tufts of grass grew shorter and sparser the further they travelled, and soon they saw the forest that shadowed the lowest foothills of the White Mountains. Had they travelled more west-ward, they would have passed the White Mountains, gone through the Gap of Rohan south of the Fords of Isen and would have come to the West-march. West-march of Rohan was a triangular blot of land between the rivers Isen and Adorn. Isen ran from its sources near Isengard to the north and Adorn straight from the east from the White Mountains.

They were going south now, however. Yesterday they had passed the crossroads that led to Hornburg. Ceadric's ancient stead of Highfort was located almost as deep in the mountains as Hornburg, but it was far smaller. It stood better defended, but its significance was decimal.

No road led to the mountain pass, but a small track had been carved onto the hillside by travelers and the biggest stones in the track had been cleared away. It was a far cry from the well-worn stretch of the Great Road, but far better than nothing at all.

The sun was past its zenith when they finally reached the gate. A guardsman must have spotted them moving up the path and the gates were open. From the gates opened a small courtyard, paved with the same pale grey stone the fortress had been built with.

A woman was descending the stairs that led to the main hall. She had white-grey streaks in her long auburn hair, and a face lined with worries. She waited them as they gave the reins to a stable boy.

"What brings visitors to my humble home? Especially so distinguished?" She couldn't have known them by name, but their clothing revealed them to be men of note.

"I am Gaiwen, and I govern this household." She introduced herself, and while it was not the manner women of noble birth usually gave their name, it was of welcome directness.

"My good lady, I am Théodred, son of Théoden. This here is my cousin, Éomer son of Éomund. We have come to discuss with either you or your brother if that is possible. But preferably not here."

"My prince." She kept her calm in an admirable manner, and her curtsey was exemplary.

"No need for that, my lady."

"Of course, my lord. If you would follow me please, I shall call for some refreshments. The road here is travelled rarely, and it must be tiresome." She led them to a cozy room decorated with wood paneling. It was done in a traditional Rohirrim style instead of the decorative fashion from Gondor many nobles favored.

"Now, my curiosity gets the best of me. What brings the heir to the throne and a lord to our humble abode?" She wasn't looking at them, but poured them ale instead. The pitcher and tankards had been brought in by a servant just a moment earlier. The same servant had also brought some bread and fresh butter.

"My cousin here has fallen in love with a maiden. However, there is a small issue concerning the birth of said lady. It has come to our attention her father might be your brother." Théodred had decided to open up with the truth, and the last sentence he uttered made the woman go pale. All blood ran from her face and for a moment she looked as if she would faint right then and there. The two men exchanged glances, but before they reacted she took a deep, shuddering breath and seemed to collect herself.

"My brother Ceadric has only ever loved one woman. Tell me, what is her mother's name?"

"Eadgifa. She was a servant in my home for many years." Éomer spoke, his voice a bit raspy. He took a hasty gulp of ale to wash the gravel from his throat, but his haste was unnecessary. The woman remained quiet for a long while.

"Eadgifa was my maid when I was younger. She was a friend to me and as loyal as one can ever hope for. But I fear we paid her ill for her devotion." The lady took a sip of her own ale before continuing.

"My brother Ceadric was never a warrior. He is a frail man, in more ways than one. And he fell in love with my maid. I let them be, even when I knew it could only bring ill luck to us. Our parents were dead then, and only I was left with Ceadric here.

He was head over heels in love. And I knew Eadgifa cherished him just as much. But when I heard of the child I knew it had to end. I said as much to Eadgifa, that my brother could never marry her. And the next day she was gone. I regretted having spoken, and I still do.

Eadgifa's disappearance drove my brother into a melancholy. His heart was broken; he couldn't understand why she was gone. I could not bear to tell him of the baby. That's how he's been ever since. His melancholy has only deepened, and all he still talks about is her."

It was a sad tale, and one that wasn't yet quite finished.

"You wrote to Eadgifa, however. You urged her not to lie to her child. And more importantly, you must have known where she went, as she received your letters."

"I wanted her child to know she was not alone in the world. And one day all this shall belong to her. I am unwed, and my brother will never again father a child. I care not the child is baseborn and a bastard, because she is all the heir I shall ever have. I drove her mother away. I wrote the letters from guilt. I knew indeed where she must have gone to, because she was from Folde. She told me as much when she entered our service."

"Folde is a vast track of land. How can a letter find a woman who does not wish to be found?"

"I sent a servant to carry my letter, one that knew what she looked like. I told him to go there first. When he returned he told me she had gone to Aldburg and that she was very visibly pregnant but employed." Gaiwen sipped at her ale before continuing.

"Eadgifa told him she had no intention of returning. He left her the letter at her insistence and returned here. I had instructed him to wait for a response, but maybe I would still be waiting."

"Eadgifa never responded?"

"After the first received no response I sent her another note, and that time my brother also wrote to her. We tried, many times. I sent letters with servants, with travelling peddlers headed there… I tried, but no, she never answered us. And now it sounds like she is no longer able to." She took another sip and rose saying:

"I shall fetch my brother. Please, do not disturb him with ill news. Tell him he has a daughter, but do not tell him Eadgifa is dead. If you tell him that he will not say anything of use."

When the woman had gone, Éomer turned to his cousin.

"She is the will behind this house. And now we know that Aefwyn is of a noble birth. Noble enough to marry you, had she not been born in the wrong side of the sheets."

"Aye. But it seems it will be of no use to invite these two to the wedding."

"Aefwyn will want to meet him, I fathom, but it will not have to be now." Their conversation was cut short by the return of their hostess. She returned with a gaunt man, whose hollow cheeks and hunched back spoke just as clearly as the look in his eyes of the state of his mind. His hair had retained the dark sheen it had in the miniature painting, but otherwise he had not aged well. He was well past forty, but his face seemed like it belonged to a man ten years older.

"My lords, here is my brother, Ceadric son of Éngrim. Ceadric, this is Théodred son of Théoden and his cousin, Éomer son of Éomund." She left their titles unspoken, but neither man minded. Their host was clearly beyond such titles, and neither man blamed him. Although, it must be said, neither also wished for his fate.

"Good day to you, my lords." Ceadric's voice was faint and both leaned closer to hear. Gaiwen guided him to a chair and helped him sit.

"My lords wish to speak with you, brother. I shall return shortly." She curtseyed again and left the room.

"My lord, a year ago I met a woman. Her mother had never told her of her father, and she was only a lowly servant in my home. However, my heart turned to her and hers to me. She is your daughter, my lord, and I am here to ask her hand in marriage." Éomer had not intended these words, but after having said them he realized they were very much true. He needed to ask this man this question at this moment.

"I am childless, my lords." The look on Cearic's face was so sad it moved even Théodred. He was a compassionate man, otherwise he wouldn't be here to help his cousin, but the sheer emotion on the older man's face was heartbreaking.

"Your sister told us of your love to her servant. And she told us this servant was pregnant when she left." The man looked distressed, but now it did not seem to be only of grief.

"Where is my child?"

"She is in Edoras, in my father's house." Théodred spoke, having realized Éomer was just as choked with feeling as the older man.

"And this young cuckoo wishes to marry her?" Éomer cleared his throat and responded.

"Very much, if it please you, my lord."

"It might not. Tell me of yourself. I might have just now heard of her, but not just any man will do." From any other man this might have been an insufferable insult, but Éomer just straightened his shoulders a bit and gave the man a level gaze. Théodred felt the need to suppress a sudden smile. He usually ignored his position completely, but this was beyond amusing. A man whose wits had taken their leave of him, speaking thus to his liege lord's nephew.

"Well, my father Éomund was a Marshal to Théoden King, and my mother Théodwyn was the king's sister. I am the lord of the city of Aldburg and its environs. I am a Rider and a true subject to my king."

"And are you a good man?"

"I think I can answer that more honestly than my cousin." Théodred interjected.

"He is at his heart a bashful sort of fellow." His smile was not answered in kind, but with a morose stare. Smile faded from Théodred's face instantly.

"I do not think there's a better man to marry your daughter, my lord."

"That will have to do then. What will you gift her?" Théodred glanced at Éomer, and the helpless look on his cousin's face revealed he had not thought of the subject until now. Just when he was about to speak again, Éomer found his words.

"Everything I own shall be also hers. What of her dowry?"

The change in conversation was sudden. For a man so many had described as insane, Ceadric seemed surprisingly straight-headed.

"This house shall be her dowry, and all that goes with it. There shall be no one else asking for it."

The two men seemed to have come to an agreement quickly. Just as quickly, Ceadric rose.

"I think I shall like you. Bring my daughter to see me."

oOo

Éomer and Théodred left the next day. Gaiwen was the only one to see them off. She wore a grey woolen dress more suited to a farmer's wife than to a lady, but who would judge her for it here?

"My brother does not seem to be so haunted. I thank you." A small smile played on her lips. She must have felt relieved to see her brother begin to gain back his former self.

"Perhaps all he ever needed was the thought of having a child to call his." It might have been salt in her wounds had they been fresh, but they were now waning as well. She crooked the corner of her mouth upward, making her smile a lopsided grin.

"And that you have given him. He told me of your plans and of the dowry he wishes Aefwyn to have. I agree. We are not young anymore, and our days have been counted. Thus, I drew this up." She gave Éomer a parchment, rolled tight and sealed with a blob of wax.

"It is her dowry."

How Éomer managed a courtly bow of his saddle was beyond Théodred, but bow he did.

"I shall not forget this kindness, my lady. I shall bring Aefwyn here as soon as I can."

"We will be expecting you."

oOo

Éomer was deep in thought. He had been overwhelmed by Gaiwen and Ceadric, certainly. And obviously, the meeting had gone far better than he had planned.

He had half expected to be politely rejected and thrown out or to be laughed out, which might have been worse.

The lady Gaiwen felt guilty, and obviously had for years. Ceadric, well, who could tell what an insane man thinks. Even if the insane man seemed to be quite shrewd.

It was true enough what lady Gaiwen had said. Twenty years ago even the more lenient nobles would have frowned upon a union of a servant and a lord. And many would still be frowning. Yet without Eadgifa's flight he would never have come to know Aefwyn.

Gaiwen had managed to track down Eadgifa, in a way. She had known Eadgifa was in Aldburg, but it seemed unlikely she had ever shared that knowledge with her brother. It was probably for the best in the long run, but telling the truth back then might have saved Ceadric all these years of his life.

All the while the parchment in his saddlebag seemed to be calling him. It was a glorious gift to Aefwyn, an inheritance she hadn't known she was due.

All the emotions within him felt overwhelming. He was relieved, exhilarated and worried at the same time. His reasons for worry were diminishing, but still he couldn't quite shake his unease. There were too many things he still lacked certainty of, and breaking these news to Aefwyn was certainly not the least of them.

He suppressed a manic cackle that almost escaped him. How on earth was he to tell Aefwyn he had asked for her hand when he hadn't even proposed to her yet?

* * *

><p>AN: I largely made this stuff up out of my head. Highfort is completely imaginary, and was originally conjured up for a short story a while back. Instead, it found itself as the ancestral stead of Ceadric, Aefwyn's father, as this story completely overtook me. Gaiwen and Ceadric are naturally just figment of my imagination, and any possible character of the same name in the books is not the same person (just thought a small disclaimer was in order).

Despite being very into writing this particular part of the story (it solved a ton of problems I had when I first started out) I still rewrote this chapter almost completely anew after publishing Ch 11. I'm hoping it sounds a bit more realistic than the original draft, which even in my own opinion was so full of logical holes you could see through it (!).

But yea, Chapter 13 is ready to be published. I'll hold on to it for a few more days though to see if it needs any tinkering after I finish with 14. Hoped you enjoyed this ^^


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hello again! I was really prepared to post this last week, but alas, life happened. First, our refrigerator died down for no apparent reason (and I had to chuck out quite a load of food) and then my internet connection vanished. After some phone calls I finally managed to get my internet connection sorted out, but it was a pain. The waiting music was dreadful as always (and in as lousy a sound quality as ever), and my ISP even advertises between the songs .' Dunno about you, but I hate waiting on the phone.

However, a bit later than planned:

* * *

><p>Aefwyn wandered around aimlessly. Éomer and Théodred had left four days ago. If everything had gone as planned, they should be returning soon.<p>

She went outside and circled the hall. She sat to her customary spot at the top of the stairs. The eaves of the veranda would shelter her when it would start to rain.

The sky was gray, the clouds hung low and the air had the ominous feel of a nearing storm. The past two days had cocooned Edoras into a blanket of sweltering heat and now the pressure was releasing into a thunderstorm.

It would be a lousy weather to ride.

Just as she had arranged her skirts the first drops fell. The rumble of a distant thunder echoed in the rafters.

She had had the morning shift that day, and the cool air outside now that it had started to rain was a pleasant change to the constant heat of the kitchens. The preparations for winter were still not finished, and wouldn't be for at least another month. The pantries were filling up nicely with juices, jams, pickled vegetables, and salted meats and sausages.

Even if the autumn was the best time for butchering, some animals were slaughtered during the summer for various reasons. Parts of these animals were stored, but most of the meat was cooked soon, because it wouldn't keep good for long in the heat.

The rain was falling heavily now and little rivulets of rainwater ran down the hill. Aefwyn hugged her knees, enjoying the solitude. Quiet was a pleasant change to the hubbub of the kitchens.

Just when she was about to give up she saw two Riders approaching. Bot looked soaked and miserable in the downpour. Aefwyn sprang to her feet and slipped into the Hall.

Just as she was setting two plates of steaming broth on one of the tables, the doors swung open again and Éomer and Théodred entered. She filled the tankards with ale and pushed the plate piled with fresh bread a bit closer.

"My lords." She curtsied, eyes downcast, and motioned towards the table.

"I took the liberty of setting this out for you." Both men exclaimed their gratitude and sat down to eat.

"Sit with us, Aefwyn." It was Théodred, and obediently Aefwyn took a seat at the table.

"We have some news. I thought you'd want to hear." Aefwyn glanced at Éomer and saw him smiling. Her mouth felt dry.

"We met your father and your aunt. Without spoiling you the ending, here's a gift for you." At Théodred's words, Éomer produced a scroll sealed with wax and placed it on the table in front of her.

Fingers shaking, Aefwyn picked up the scroll. She broke the seal almost hesitantly and rolled open the parchment.

"They are gifting me their home… for dowry?" Her last word was almost a squeal.

"Yes, that's the gist of it."

Aefwyn glanced at Éomer. The man was looking at her intently, with a question in his eyes. And hope, and something…

She nodded, hardly perceptibly. She had only just now realized that this was a proposal. A wordless gesture, but so precious.

Éomer's shoulders relaxed, and only the silent cough from the other side of the table woke them up again.

"If I had known you were going to be one of those couples I would have opted out of this."

Aefwyn blushed furiously, and Éomer's ears were bright red. His tan hid the blush on his cheeks, but Aefwyn was not so lucky.

"Hmm, I think you two still have some hope." Théodred smiled.

"Do you want to know what Éomer here has promised to gift you?" Aefwyn couldn't force a word out of her mouth for all the riches in Middle-Earth. Éomer interjected on her behalf:

"She's stunned by this. Can't you skitter on to tell your father the great news or something?" Théodred gave him a lewd smile and for her a small bow.

"My lady, pray excuse me. My brutish cousin wishes me to take my leave." She smiled, but still couldn't find her words. They all came to her in a jumble when Théodred was out of earshot.

"Éomer! You have not even proposed and you go to my father and arrange this! I do not even know him… what must he think of me!"

"Calm down."

He rose and pulled her up with him. There, standing in the middle of the empty hall, he cleared his throat and was quiet for a few minutes.

"Aefwyn, we've known each other for what seems like an eternity. But yet I only came to realize how important you are to me a very short time ago. I set out for this with only feeble hopes, but I just seemed to have a perfect strike of luck.

I told you I wanted to find your father. We showed you what Théodred found. But I couldn't find the words to tell you why until now."

He took her hands into his.

"Aefwyn, please do me the honor and marry me."

It was like a story, like the stuff of legends. She was a servant, from a mere chance of luck a daughter of a lord… and a man unalike anyone was now standing there, telling her he had taken up to himself to find out about her past just to have a chance of marrying her.

"How could I say no? What kind of a fool would say no?"

He pulled her closer, and finally his hands sunk into her hair. His lips tasted like ale, but they were firm and warm against hers.

The kiss deepened, her arms wound themselves around his neck.

And the next moment, a loud and very intentional cough pulled them apart.

"It seems, my son, that your prediction was correct." Their guilty gazes met the king, standing near his dais, with Théodred in tow. Aefwyn dropped to a curtsey.

Her cheeks burned hot again and she cursed herself of blushing the millionth time. It had been a common problem to her ever since she had come to Edoras, it seemed.

"Uncle. Aefwyn has just accepted my proposal."

"Congratulations are in order, it seems. There are some things we need to agree upon." Théoden sat himself and motioned for them to sit as well.

"Now, I think it is clear you will not be working in the kitchens anymore. Nor as a servant of any kind for that matter." Théoden took the scroll Théodred was holding out.

"This gives you Highfort as dowry. And it proves to the doubtful you are of good descent. Not beyond a doubt, but that is not a concern."

The king pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"We need a lavish wedding of course, but nothing too pompous. Perhaps a modest ceremony before the harvest feast, and we can dedicate the festivities in your honor?"

Aefwyn felt like saying no, but she didn't need to. Éomer was none more pleased of the idea than she was.

"We can dedicate it in our honor amongst ourselves, but I do not feel the need to include all of Edoras in our wedding."

"Father, I don't think we should make it too open in any case. Objections will rise if everything is too grand", Théodred said.

"Fine then. But Harvest Feast I insist on. It will allow mistress Aefwyn to have new clothing made to befit her new station and to be introduced to the court etiquette by Éowyn."

"Well, that sounds agreeable."

The four of them discussed a while longer, but Aefwyn could hardly remember anything afterwards. Everything was happening so fast she couldn't quite take all in.

oOo

The sheer weight of everything set on her shoulders only when she watched her former colleagues carry new bedclothes to a room that was now hers. Two of them had smiled at her, but she had seen the envy in the third girl's eyes.

Yesterday she had been one of them, and now she was a lady. This morning Éowyn had come with three servants to her bedroom and had started giving directions. Within a few minutes everything Aefwyn owned had been packed: her clothes to a basket, excepting her liveries which were scurried to be refitted for someone else. The remaining clothes were a pitiful heap, but Éowyn at least pretended not to take notice and instead harried the servants on. Her words were kind, but she seemed a bit impatient.

After this flurry of action Éowyn had led her and the servants to another wing of the Hall, where Aefwyn's rooms were to be located until her wedding.

The wedding and all that needed to be done before had been Éowyn's next subject. She had had all sorts of lists with her; quick drafts most that she had written the previous evening after having heard the news. The sheer amount of things on those papers had made Aefwyn shiver.

She had served people of noble blood her entire life, but there was so much servants never needed to know that she now had to. Éowyn had been excited for them, a romantic at heart. Éowyn carried with her an aura of sadness despite the happy news. Théoden had started showing signs of old age some time ago, and even if this sudden joyous occasion had given him a spurt of energy he was not like he had used to be.

Also, Éowyn was shadowed by Théoden's newest advisor, Gríma son of Gálmod. Almost everyone seemed to have a distaste for the man, but somehow he still lingered.

After the servants were finished Aefwyn sat on her new bed. It was twice as big as her cot and had the softest mattress she had ever seen. The pillows were airy, the quilts thick and her sheets crisp white. It didn't have curtains, but she doubted she wouldn't have needed them anyway.

The rest of her furniture were still sparse: a lady was expected to give her chambers a personal flavor, for at times she would entertain a small troupe of ladies in her rooms. However, she had two armchairs by the fireplace with a small table between them and a small desk with a chair by the window for writing, and a chest of drawers. Also there was had a stand for a pitcher and a basin, and she knew she could have a copper tub brought to her room for baths.

She had even a small room adjacent to hers for her clothes, but it was still dismally empty. She knew that there was also a privy just down the hall, which was always a blessing. Meduseld had no rooms with a privy of their own, but there were a few privies around the house open for all inhabitants. This was common, and thus only worth half the thought.

Aefwyn still felt overwhelmed. She had lived her entire life believing herself the offspring of a servant and perhaps a guardsman, and would have never in her wildest dreams thought her mother had once loved a lord. But she had, against all odds.

It had also only been in her wildest dreams that Éomer should want her. She had been so far below him, a childhood friend. Aefwyn had never allowed herself to hope, except in her daydreams, that Éomer should see her as a woman or as a loved one. And now it seemed her daydreams were coming true.

But there were still many problems ahead of them. She might now be as good as a trueborn lady of high birth, but she knew next to nothing of how to live like one. She would have to learn the etiquette, to recognize the nobles by their arms or appearance alone, to eat from the complex settings she knew well enough how to lay out. And that was only the beginning. She would have to have a wardrobe to her new life, a servant girl of her own perhaps. She would have to learn how to give orders.

She had been in charge of a few servants at a time on few occasions, but her instructions were more suggestions than actual commands. But there would be times when she would have to put her position behind her words. She expected the first time would be with Odwyn, and it would be soon.

The king had given her the right to wear the title of the lady of Highfort and to use Highfort's arms as her own. This grant had been blessed by a letter from her father and her aunt, who now acted castellan at her stead. This at itself made her nervous. First it seemed as if she had had the audacity to force her into the family through Éomer and Théodred's visit, and now they even lost their positions because of her. It mattered very little in these thoughts that her new relatives had suggested this arrangement and had even given her their home as dowry. Their home, and now hers, that she had never been to, except in her mother's womb.

There was of course the issue of the wedding as well, and all that came with it. The king would wed them, but there was a feast to follow, a whole new set of happenings Aefwyn had never witnessed before. Éowyn had already given her a list of suggestions she had quickly brought together, which included a few words on the suitable dress, an overview of traditions regarded in Edoras and a couple of lines about inviting guests.

Aefwyn already knew that from behalf no one would have to send a lot of invitations. There would be two, and those would be going to the same place. She knew next to nothing about who Éomer would like to have present, however. And when she would meet them she probably wouldn't even know their names.

The thought filled her with dread. She wanted nothing more than to have the wedding, but she feared the occasion more than anything. She was sure she was going to make a fool of herself in her wedding feast and have everyone hate her as soon as they met her. She tried to calm herself and lay down to her back.

The bed was so soft she relaxed before she even knew it. Her thoughts kept running in bewildered circles, but her muscles were singing to a different tune. Soon she fell asleep, physically exhausted from the mental strain she had been under, and all the new emotions hitting her at the same time.

* * *

><p>AN: First things first, I've a review to respond to!

Ahriana, I really do hope you can find no logical holes here. Anymore that is. But in my first tries with these chapters they were aplenty. Hope you'll enjoy the rest as much as thus far :)

As hopefully will the rest of you reading ^^

As for the chapter this time... I actually hadn't intended to write all these things in the same chapter originally, but well... I guess it'll be better this way. As for the future, Chapter 14 is pretty much finished. I have some touching up to do and I need to do some background work for Ch. 15 and beyond while at it. We'll see how that turns out. I think I'm going to dread making seating plans as much as real fiancées (and I'm really glad Aefwyn doesn't have to bother with that...) :P After all, I'll have to find out who I need to invite.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Hello all! Finally ready to post this one, it sure did take it's time...

Happy holidays to all :)

* * *

><p>A ray of sun crept slowly from the crack of the curtains across the floor, climbed up the side of the bed, wormed its way across the rumpled sheets and tickled the dark brown eyelashes of the young woman on the bed.<p>

She grunted and turned her face away in her sleep, reluctant to the call of the sun. However, the morning was insistent upon her, and inevitably the ray of light crept forward until it touched her nose.

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and at once sprung from the bed like a jack-in-the-box. Soon her beating heart slowed however, when her unfamiliar surroundings dawned on her. It was not the shadowy little room she was so used to, but an airy room with its wood paneled walls and curtain-covered windows.

Aefwyn combed her hair away from her forehead with her fingers and went to the window. She opened the curtains to reveal the scenery outside. It was northward, opening to the plains and towards the river Anduin, even if she couldn't see that far from her vantage.

She wore her clothes from the day before: her faded woolen shift she had worn when she arrived to Edoras. It was practically everything she owned as far as her clothing went, seeing that she no longer had her liveries. It felt stuffy and wrinkly after her sleeping in it and that made her feel a lot messier than she liked.

She went to her wash stand and found the pitcher to be full. She poured some water to the enameled basin and then splashed some on her face and neck.

Just as she was wondering what she should do next there was a knock on the door. She went to open and found Éowyn and another woman standing there.

"Good morning, Aefwyn. I brought us some breakfast so we may plan your wedding and get you measured out for some clothes. This is mistress Frea, she is the seamstress who does all my dresses. I have already explained to her what kind of clothes you will need, so all you will have to do is pick out the colors you like and make any additions you deem necessary."

Éowyn set the tray on her desk.

"Let us eat and talk first, and then get on with the measurements."

"That sounds like a plan." Éowyn was much more cheerful than Aefwyn would have appreciated at the moment, but it was more than true she couldn't just sit doing nothing for the whole day.

"Now, I told mistress Frea you will need at least three dresses first, a few nightgowns, smallclothes and all the rest of it. Your colors are so much darker than mine, that you will need stronger colors. Green would suit your hair, and blues your eyes. Mistress, did you bring the samples?" Éowyn babbled along as she set the table for them. The seamstress had declined the food, but sat with them with a cup of steaming herbal tea. At Éowyn's question, she picked up her bag from the floor.

"Of course, m'lady. Now, m'lady, pick out the colors you like, and we'll go from there." She opened the book and Aefwyn started leafing through. The first pages were more somber colors, clearly meant for widows. Further on she found a section of pastel hues Éowyn favored. Her golden hair was brought to a shine resting against her pale blue dresses, and the blue-grey tone of her eyes seemed deeper. She was right however; those colors would not do for Aefwyn.

Finally they settled to a dark blue for a simpler gown, a smoky purple for an evening gown and a velvety green for what was to be her wedding dress. The green brought out amber streaks in her hair and complimented her skin tone.

Also, for a later date they placed orders for two more gowns for daywear, one in two shades of brown and one in a smoky grey. The grey they chose was tinted to blue a bit and was more suitable for winter. She had also ordered two corsets in Éowyn's behest, but she doubted she would be using them much.

Mistress Frea took her measurements after they had broken their fast and took her leave soon after. She wanted to get on working on the dresses so that her employees, three Rider's wives, could start sewing them as soon as possible. Mistress Frea designed her dresses herself, and while a capable seamstress herself she usually had other women do that for her because for her alone the work would have been too great. She was after all the most popular seamstress in Edoras, largely thanks to Éowyn who favored her over others.

Aefwyn soon felt overwhelmed again by the stream of information. Éowyn had diligently started her lessons, and after only two hours Aefwyn cried for a break.

"Enough, Éowyn! I soon forget where we started and you will have to tell me again! Have mercy." She plead in a mockingly horrified tone.

"I cannot imagine to remember all this and we only just started." Éowyn smiled at her encouragingly.

"I think I thought the same once. I thought you got off very easy, you only had to listen to half of our lessons. But I think if I could master these then, you can do so now." She smiled conspiratorially.

"But we can do this later. I don't have to teach you everything before the wedding, just enough to suffice until we're all done."

"Thank you, Éowyn!" They both left her room, now snuggly warm because of their body heat. The corridor felt chilly after her warm rooms: despite the summer the Hall was large and heated slowly during the day. In the evenings however, the stone foundations kept the heat for a while after the air had cooled. It had been like this in the servants' quarters, but there her little room had felt even warmer in the mornings and the corridors even cooler.

They separated in the hall: Éowyn had her duties and Aefwyn felt the need to have some fresh air. Frea had promised her a dress the day after tomorrow, sometime during the morning, but until then she would have to make do.

Sun had climbed high in the sky when Aefwyn got outside. The dress choices had taken the better part of two hours, seeing as they had also eaten then. The measurements had been swift, but that was another half an hour. She had woken late: it must have been closer to midday when the seamstress left, she concluded. So the hour was well past midday: in four hours, the hall would be full and for the first time she would take her seat in the high table. Not scurrying between the tables carrying plates and pitchers, not eating her meal standing in the kitchen if she had the while.

She felt giddy. It was more she had been prepared for. She had always thought she would end up marrying some local tradesman or a Rider perhaps. A common Rider, not a lord, except in her wildest dreams. Yes, only in her daydreams had she conjured up this image, but in her real thoughts she had known otherwise.

Aefwyn hadn't moved from the door, and the two guards in their post were taking notice of her. They wouldn't say anything, of course, but she started to feel silly standing there.

She descended the steps to the yard. She suddenly felt like seeing her horse. It had been a while since she had last been to the tables, but she had visited the horse sometimes. It was not her own, but a mare she had picked from Aldburg's stables. The Riders had spare horses, and the stable master had given her the mare saying it might as well be at Edoras. Aldburg was Éomer's seat, but he had not been there for years. The stable had plenty of horses without Riders, for one reason or the other, and the stable master was eager to be rid of an extra mouth.

She picked up a few apples from a bucket by the door. The mare was down the left side, quite far down the back. She gave the horse a brushing and fed the apples to her. It had become a routine though at first her brush strokes probably hadn't been strong enough. The younger of the stable boys had shown her how. He hadn't spoken two words while at it, but at least he had agreed to do show her. By now she knew she needed a little pressure and had made some sort of a connection with the mare. She didn't know the horse's name, however, and that made her a bit ashamed. Horses were important to the Rohirrim, and Aefwyn didn't even know what her mare was called!

Except that it wasn't hers, of course. Technically it belonged to Éomer, and as much she had said to the stable master here when she had arrived.

She left the mare and continued on her way. She had her few coins with her, so she decided to go tour the market stalls. Perhaps she could find something nice for her new rooms. She wandered through the booths rather aimlessly, not seeing anything that would really catch her eye. In the end she gave up empty-handed and went back to the Hall. The roof was reflecting the late afternoon sun, making the Hall truly match its name.

The tables were still empty when she entered. Relieved, she went to her new rooms to freshen up. She washed her hands and face and brushed her hair, deciding she needed a bath post haste. Now was not the time, and a few quick brush strokes had to be enough.

She opened her door just as Éomer was about to knock.

"Time to eat, my lady", he said and offered his arm.

She took it, butterflies in her stomach, and they proceeded down the hall. Both were silent, but it was a comfortable silence.

Soon they were at the hall and took their seats a bit left from the king. Théodred and Éowyn were to the king's right. Down towards the doors, the tables were full of household members: the scribes, advisors, secretaries and whoever more that made the kingdom run; Riders and even some off duty servants. This was common, just an evening like the rest.

That thought took most of the pressure off Aefwyn's shoulders. Somehow the realization really came to her there and then. With a renewed appetite, she looked at the meal set before her.

As usual, it was meat in broth with vegetables. Beside it, the table held breads, mead, ale and wine. A pitcher of milk was also present, as many Riders preferred it with their meals. The meat was game this time, the broth rich with butter and some of the better wine from the cellars. Vegetables included onions, carrots and other beets that had been left in rather sizable cubes. It was a filling meal, especially when combined with several slices of well-buttered bread like the sizable pile Théodred had established beside his plate.

A steady flow of conversation from the tables filled the hall with a pleasant noise. The high table remained silent for longer however, focusing on their meal rather than a conversation. Soon, however, Théoden had engaged the men in a conversation over horse breeding. Éowyn made remarks, as she too enjoyed caring for her steeds. Aefwyn listened: she had nothing to participate to the conversation. She wasn't bothered by it, more relieved actually. And of course, the topic was interesting even if she did not know the horses in question.

It was a far more pleasant experience she had anticipated, but after all, this had only been a casual meal with no guests present. A grand feast, like the Harvest Feast, would be a different matter altogether. There would be nobles present, guest to the king, as every year. And everyone would have their eye on her and Éomer because of their wedding.

Some of those nobles would have to be invited. They were important men and women who would be severely slighted should they be excluded.

And they would be present at the feast. There would certainly be someone there who would be outraged by her birth. It was a worry she bore all the time. That she would turn into a burden or a hindrance to Éomer when he decided he would immerse into his lordly duties.

After they had finished their meal, Éowyn excused herself to take a final look into the royal finances before going to sleep. Aefwyn and Éomer found themselves alone at the high table after Théodred and the king had conjured up a hasty excuse to leave.

"They did this on purpose." Aefwyn accused.

"Of course. You will get used to my uncle, but until then it will suffice to say he is almost as fond of mischief as we used to be." Éomer arched his eyebrow and cocked his head.

"Ah, you should have warned me before I said yes." She planted a dismayed look on her face.

"I knew that if I would you would turn me down." He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. A blush crept up her neck as she remembered how many people would be watching, but when she glanced towards the rest of the hall, no one seemed to paying them any mind.

They left the table together, and now that neither of them had no pressing duties they found themselves sitting in the moonlight in front of Meduseld again. It was a favorite spot for both: you could see the expanse of grass beyond the city walls, the black profiles of the mountains in the western horizon if it was a bright night like this one, and the city going to sleep.

They sat in comfortable silence, Aefwyn leaning her head to Éomer's shoulder. Éomer wrapped his hand around her shoulder, and both sighed in contention.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for the reviews, they get me to write even when I'm not so very sure what to say.

And because this chapter doesn't really have a good cliffhanger, I'll just let you know the next chapter will have a wedding... ;P


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Hello again! So, it is time for a wedding I hear. I've already started Ch. 16, so hopefully there won't be as big of a gap between this one and the next as the one you had to endure before this one. Without further babble I'll let you get on with it :D

* * *

><p>The few short weeks before the Harvest Feast and their wedding had gone by too swiftly for Aefwyn's tastes. Of course, she wanted to be wedded to Éomer as soon as possible, but she dreaded the prospect she would make an ass of herself in front of the nobles gathered to celebrate the Harvest.<p>

Harvest Feast was an Occasion with a big "o" for the Rohirrim. It signaled the coming of winter, yes, but also gave thanks to the warm season now almost behind them. It was a celebration of the gifts of their homeland, and a bountiful harvest like that of the year 3011 of the Third Age.

Many of the nobles had Feasts of their own, especially those who lived in the farthest corners of the realm, but many more flocked to Edoras and to their town homes to celebrate the Harvest. They brought their family, their Riders and as sizable a portion of their harvest as was needed to contribute to the wealth of food that played the main part of the Feast.

Nobles had been arriving for a bit over a week, and the city was bustling. Most rohirrim had their small farms and lived in small villages scattered across the vast plains, and while Edoras was the largest city in Rohan, it was meager compared to Minas Tirith. The arriving nobles and their retinues filled the cobbled and dirt streets alike, and the market was full of costumers from dawn until the merchants had sold their wares.

Aefwyn wasn't so sure she enjoyed the bustle. Most nobles paid visits to Meduseld, and often she was summoned to greet them with Éomer and to receive their congratulations. Most nobles seemed to be rather neutral, which was a relief to both. Some were rather cool in their congratulations, and seemed to give them only because of Éomer's esteemed lineage.

On a happier note, her wedding dress had been finished. She had tried it on numerous times in different stages of completion, but yesterday she had had her final fitting. The dress was a soft, pale green, with a grass green skirt to go beneath, to show when she moved. It was decorated in a simple manner, to Aefwyn's tastes, with the same grass green as the skirt. The embroidery focused to the neckline and sleeves and gave the impression of racing horses if you looked closely. It was an intricate but subtle pattern, and Aefwyn could have traced the lines and admire the dress for hours on end.

As an age-old tradition dictated, Éomer was not to see the dress or her in it before the wedding, but Éowyn had of course seen it. She had had her own fittings at the same time, and they had shared the excitement.

Aefwyn had continued her lessons with Éowyn, and they'd spent a deal of time together. Most lessons were for the time being rather cursory, but they would have time to broaden Aefwyn's views on matters like bookkeeping after the wedding. Instead, Éowyn had focused on matters that would be more useful during the Feast and the wedding. So, etiquette and dancing had been the first lessons, small talk and heraldry another. In time, Aefwyn would be expected to recognize the nobles and greet them as proper, because of her new position. She had spent long enough time in Edoras to recognize some of them, but most spent their time protecting their lands and people and rarely came to the city.

Even after all she had learned she felt she couldn't possibly remember everything. She knew she would be nervous enough of the wedding, and the pressure might make her forget everything.

Éomer, too, had been busy. Théodred had kept him tightly by his side for most of the time, giving all sorts of lewd advice when Aefwyn was in earshot, but most likely talking about something else entirely when she didn't hear. Éomer had been giving him pained stares throughout most of this time, clearly as uncomfortable with his cousin's advice as she was. This meant the couple had had very little time together, which might have been exactly Théodred's intention, for all she knew.

This also meant they hadn't really had a chance to discuss what would happen after the wedding. It was clear that at one point or another, they would leave for Aldburg and Éomer would finally assume his father's seat.

It was however too late to regret anything now: everything was decided and the ceremony would take place tomorrow. It took most of Aefwyn's energy to appear calm and composed, when in reality all she wanted to do was run and scream and laugh and cry, possibly all at the same time. She was just as nervous as a maid of seventeen could possibly be before her wedding day.

But, seeing that most of the guests spent this day preparing for tomorrow, she would also have a chance for some peace and quiet. After lunch she retired to her rooms. She was in no mood for chit chat and gossip, and her rooms were luckily void of both.

Her austere surroundings had been turned into a more homely appearance after a shopping spree with Éowyn in the market and the surrounding shops, and now there were a few hangings on her walls, a new rug on her floor and a basket of small paraphernalia a woman needs to unpack. The basket had been a spur of the moment purchase, with all of its contents, and she took up the task of finding a proper place for everything. The familiar task soothed her frayed nerves and after she was finished she felt confident enough about herself to wander out of her rooms once more.

Now that she no longer had to work for her place in Edoras, her days were filled with hours on end she didn't quite know how to use. She had started reading the books in the library, but most were of warfare and interested her little. She had also tried knitting, but it made her feel old beyond her years to be seventeen and knit in her room by the fireplace. Éowyn dealt with running the household, and Aefwyn didn't quite feel up to spending so much of her time with Odwyn, who Éowyn often sought out for various matters.

She had walked around Edoras for days on end and now knew the city almost better than she knew Aldburg. Her lessons took hours off her afternoons, but both before and after lunch Éowyn was busy taking care of her other duties. Théodred had been very successful in keeping her and Éomer at a distance, so Éomer could only rarely fill her empty hours. She didn't know the noble ladies, and they didn't clearly feel the need to know her, for they stayed their distance too.

Aefwyn didn't feel herself lonely, as she was always surrounded by the noises and sounds of the household. She was the one who needed to find her own place and ways to fill her days: no one else had to do that for her, and they had their own tasks. She knew very little of being a noble, and she had no idea what she could do.

After an hour or two of idly tidying her already neat rooms and leafing through a book she didn't find particularly interesting, she went to the hall for her lessons with Éowyn. Today, Éowyn reintroduced her to a few noble families, all of which would be represented tomorrow. She noticed to her relief that the names were by now familiar and she could even put a face to a few thanks to the endless stream of congratulations she had had to endure.

They went through the ceremony again.

"… And then, we return to the Hall, where you will take the seats to the right from the King. It won't be too much different from a normal meal, except of course that we'll be there for hours. People will make toasts in your honor, I'd imagine. And the musicians will play by the fireplace. A suitable time after the meal, there will be dancing. Usually, by that time the happy couple can make their exit. Now, was that about it? Did I forget something?" Éowyn went through her lists once again.

"I think that was it. And on the good side, I think we're now ready with everything else, too. Let's get ready for dinner; I think I can smell something good cooking."

They returned to their rooms and separated by Éowyn's door.

"You are taking this so calmly. I wish I can be as calm when it'll be my turn." Éowyn smiled a sad little smile, and went to her room. Gríma still eyed her. He hadn't been present in the hall during their lessons, but some days he'd sit by the fire drinking ale and leafing through papers, staring at them from time to time.

Aefwyn turned and went to her rooms. She brushed a few stray strands of hair back to order and smoothed her dress with her hands. It was the dark blue dress they had first ordered from mistress Frea, and it truly was as good a dress as was to be expected. It had tight sleeves, a fitted bodice with a modest neckline and a flowing skirt, a row of tiny buttons running down the back.

She couldn't resist taking a final sneak peek of her dress, and went to her closet. She fingered the soft green cloth and sighed. As much as she dreaded the wedding, she at the same time couldn't wait to have a chance to wear such a beautiful garment while marrying such a beautiful man.

After standing there a while staring at the dress dreamingly she made her way to the Great Hall. It was perhaps halfway full, but the high table on the dais was mostly empty. The King was not yet present, but Théodred and Éomer were weaving their way through the hall towards her. Éowyn tapped her shoulder a moment later and almost made her start, so intent had her eyes been on the approaching men.

Théodred and Éomer were stopped every once in a while by Riders and other guests offering their congratulations – or, judging by the look on Éomer's face, some questionable advice for after the wedding ceremony. Their advance was slow, but at least everyone seemed to be in good spirits now. Even the nobles she recognized from the tables looked much less judgmental than they had previously appeared.

Finally the men reached them. Théodred kissed both their cheeks and wrapped his hands around their shoulders.

"It is truly outrageous that you are allowed such beauty, cousin, when I must wander the world alone and without a hope of such a radiating sight awaiting me." It seemed to Aefwyn that Théodred might have been into his cups, and even Éomer looked slightly vexed. Éowyn settled to arching her eyebrows at her cousin, but remained still and even managed to hold on to her smile.

"Well, cousin, just propose to one of the merry ladies you've been offered over the years, and miraculously someone will be waiting for you when you return home. Now, I would have my bride and sister back." Éomer offered one hand to Aefwyn and another to Éowyn and led them to their seats.

"Just ignore Théodred, he took me to an ale-house right after noon. It seems he didn't keep quite as close an eye to my cup as he should have, because he was a bit too busy emptying his own." Éomer whispered to them.

"I'm afraid his intention was to get me a hang-over for tomorrow, but I'd rather keep a clear head." Éomer chuckled.

Just after they had seated themselves the King entered, and like on a signal, the servants entered bearing their meal. As a preparation for the feast, whole animals were roasting over pits, and today a pig had been carved for them. With the meat was served a siding of vegetables and mushrooms. Also, the meal featured freshly baked bread and butter churned in the morning, and pitcher after pitcher of heady rohirrim ale.

Many took this meal as a practice for the Harvest Feast and piled their plates high. Aefwyn found her appetite lacking and took a smaller helping, and clearly so was the case for Éomer also, because the heap of meat and vegetables on his plate was only a good third of Théodred's helping.

They sat at the high table for good two hours after their meal, listening to the minstrels and singers tune up their instruments and voices for the next evening.

Aefwyn retired for bed rather early. She had to wake before dawn the next morning to bathe and prepare. The ceremony would be held outside the gates, in the golden grass of the plain north of the city just after dawn had broken and sun risen over the horizon.

oOo

The dawn broke cool and crisp, giving the air the first hints of autumn. Aefwyn was dressed in her green wedding dress and Éomer rode beside her in his entire officer's regalia. He wasn't wearing his helmet, but it rested on the crook of his left arm while the right held the reins in a loose grip. His steed knew the thoughts of his rider as well as his own and needed no rein to keep it in check.

The rest of the party rode behind them, as they were riding behind Théoden King and his heir. The king was leading them to a small mound rising in the sea of golden grass, dotted here and there by still-green patches. The king had chosen the mound because the group of guests was rather numerous by this point, swollen by Riders who had served under Éomer's command in one point or another, their wives and children and other curious folk who had seen them pass down the streets of Edoras. Not only the common folk, it included the invited nobles and their entire families. Also, many of the girls who Aefwyn had been closer with during her servitude were also present: Odwyn had given them a grudging leave to attend.

Arriving to the hill and the ceremony itself was all a blur afterwards for Aefwyn, but she remembered vaguely being helped off her horse by Théodred, who escorted her to the top of the hill where Théoden waited them. Éomer was there too, and ceremonially, Théodred, in absence of her father, was the one to hand her hand off to her fiancé.

She couldn't concentrate on the words Théoden spoke to the throng of people below them, gathered at the foot and rise of the little hilltop. Only the four of them stood to the peak. The wind was rising, and the grass waved in the gentle breeze, in perfect harmony and unison.

She answered the required words when Théoden spoke to her, and heard Éomer's voice, deep and sure, beside her. It was now she first saw the size of their audience when Théoden gently turned them to face the crowd. Aefwyn later thought wryly she must have made a splendored first impression by nearly gaping in shock at the amount of people. Éomer was a steadying presence beside her, and now he turned her to him and planted the most perfect wedding day kiss on her lips. The cheering crowd made quite a roar, and they both raised their eyes to the crowd again, blushing.

On the ride back to Edoras, Aefwyn felt her head clear, the stress and nervousness fading away. She had been so afraid of making a fool of herself, and yet she could hardly recall saying the words. The wedding script was ancient, in parts spoken in very archaic tones. It had remained very much the same from the days of Eorl the Young, influenced only a little by the passing of time.

The ride was over way too soon for her tastes, no matter their slow pace. The next obstacle was before her, in the form of a very long and heavy trestle table being laden with food that very moment. This time, when they arrived to the courtyard it was Éomer who helped her down. The dress was exquisite, but it was not meant for riding at all.

Together, they entered the hall, and as Éowyn had said the previous day, they sat to the king's right. Only the nobles entered the Hall, the common folk had tables laid outside for them to enjoy the Harvest feast later that day. For now, most of them still returned to their homes, but the wedding guests sat to eat the first course.

The day was already past noon, and a bite to eat was a welcome thought for Aefwyn. She had scarcely been able to eat before riding out, but now she found herself ravenous. The food was delicious as always, and Odwyn had taken very special care to show the splendor of the pantries and kitchens of Meduseld. In the king's behest, Éowyn rose to make the first toast. She held her glass aloft and spoke:

"Aefwyn, we were friends those long years ago in Aldburg, and you were like a sister to me then. Today, you became a sister. Éomer, you should remember that she is not _your_ sister, though." The hall burst to laughter, and the loudest laugh was Éomer's.

"Worry not, sister. I shan't forget." He pulled Aefwyn closer and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. It was a game, a joke between the siblings. Jokes in the expense of the speech-giver and the happy couple were a rather common occurrence in rohirrim wedding. If the ceremony itself was archaic, the feast was raucous. The speeches would only gather momentum from this point forward, as the speakers and the listeners got more inebriated.

All the while when guests ate and drank – mostly drank at this point – musicians took turns entertaining them. The great doors of the Hall were open the whole day, and people were moving in and out. As the dinner proper approached, people returned to their seats and outside the tables were also filling. Aefwyn and Éomer had visited outside between the blueberry pie and stuffed hen, and they'd spent almost an hour talking with various people: Éomer's Riders, Aefwyn's few friends and even the painter who had painted Aefwyn's parents. Éomer had asked about the man from Théodred and took Aefwyn to greet him.

Aefwyn and Éomer returned to the table just in time for Théoden's speech. He first welcomed them all to the Harvest feast and congratulated the happy couple again. As a man of action, he didn't draw out his speech overlong, but soon bid them all to eat to their hearts' content, for the fortune of the summer passed and the winter ahead.

During the speeches Aefwyn felt her nervousness rising again. The speeches were a herald of another change in her life tonight. She was not afraid, but a stone rested in her stomach in place of the delicious foods she had eaten. She nibbled on the courses, sipped on her dark golden ale and listened to the musicians. The raucous laughter and lewd jokes helped her keep her mind off from the near future, and she gave the air of ease despite the storm of unease in her stomach.

Nevertheless, the evening drew to a close for them. After dancing a bit they retired, unnoticed by the now-drunken crowd. Éowyn was dancing with Théodred the last they saw, the king deeply absorbed in conversation, and generally everyone having a good time.

They walked to their new rooms – Éomer's spacious chambers – in pensive silence. At the door however, Éomer whisked her off her feet and planted a kiss on her lips. The kiss was so deep and hot she was glad she was already off her feet, for her knees would have buckled under the emotion the kiss held.

Éomer carried his newly-wed wife in the room and closed the door behind them.

* * *

><p>AN: And I'll be a major spoil-sport and give them the privacy asked. After all, Aefwyn could never relax with us hovering over the bed.

Thank you for following and favoriting, and of course thank you for the reviews. The support you show keeps me writing despite all my time management issues :D

At this point, the timeline is a bit hazy. I'm not quite sure yet how I'll fill in the details between this moment (3011 III), and the point when the action starts happening. I'm guessing I'll be re-re-rereading the books with a fine comb to flesh things out a bit. I figured I'll start giving you status updates on where the fellowship is at after we get to that point, because it's pretty hard to keep track of their hardships in the light of this story before they enter Rohan in the Two Towers.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Hello all. It took me a long while to really finish this one. I took a spurt and finished about half of this right after the previous chapter was published, but then it was Easter and I had all sorts of stuff at work - including the notorious 53 -hour week which is technically illegal around here.

I thank you so very much for all the reviews, favorites and follows. I'm having trouble making time for everything, and you guys keep me convinced I should be spending some of it on this in my times of doubt. But no more of me, go on.

* * *

><p>Aefwyn woke late. She lay there, her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the man beside her. Even the dull pressure she now felt in the muscles of her nether regions seemed pleasant to her, at this moment in time.<p>

She did not stir a muscle; just lay in place enjoying this very new sort of silence. For it was not the silence of her lonely room but the silence of a room inhabited by two: It was not only her own breaths she heard, but his as well.

She heard Éomer's breath change, his body preparing to wake up for a new day. She opened her eyes, taking in the bright light in the room signaling nearing noon.

Éomer wrapped his hand around her, rubbing his beard at her shoulder. This lead to a rather predictable chain of events that ended with Éomer half over him, kissing her. It was a slow, seductive kiss, lacking the haste and the burning of the night before.

At that moment however, a timid knock on the door interrupted them.

"Who the hell could it be?" Éomer hissed under his breath, but got off the bed in search of his clothes. Settling for a tunic that lay rumpled at the feet of the bed he went to the door barefooted and not at all pleased.

Aefwyn remained in the bed, now tucked chastely beneath the covers, half sitting against the carved headboard. She was as curious as Éomer, but at the same time also half mortified. It was not as if their married life should have begun in another way, but still her innate sense of propriety fought this invasion on their privacy.

Despite the timid, almost hesitant knock, who else could it have been at the door but Théodred? The older man eyed his cousin, the thundering eyes and half aroused form, with a glint of mirth in his eye.

"Ah, pardon me, cousin", he proclaimed cheerily.

"Have I interrupted something?"

"You know very well you have, and that is also the only reason to your visit, is it not?" Éomer, while he had a temper, was usually in perfect mastery of his emotions. At present, however, he was far from pleased with his cousin, and looked about ready to hit the other man.

"Far from. I couldn't send a servant girl to see this, so I brought you breakfast. Even that game of yours is more fun after some refreshment. Try to get out of bed before nightfall though; Théoden will wait you both for dinner." While speaking, Théodred handed Éomer a tray of food. The end of his words was spoken while already walking down the hall, accompanied by a small wave.

Éomer re-entered the room, pensive.

"I am not sure if the food was just an excuse, or if he just took the chance as it arrived."

"I'd say a bit of both. But now, let's eat. I can't say I wasn't hungry." Aefwyn smiled at her husband while he handed her the tray and slid back under the covers.

"Let's see, ham, eggs, toast… ahh, this is mine." Éomer picked out a plate with small pie-like pastries on it.

"Save a few for me, too."

Silence fell in the room, only punctuated by sounds of eating. They had worked up a hunger the previous night, and even if Aefwyn had for a second felt shy about waking next to this man as naked as the day of her birth she had completely forgotten all her fears and doubts for this moment.

Fearing another curious, well-meaning intruder, they decided to take things into their own hands and dressed up.

To avoid further encounters they slid out from the back. After exiting Meduseld they almost ran down the service road behind the Hall until they got to the houses at the bottom of the hillock.

By that time, Aefwyn was breathless from the exercise and laughter: it is very hard to stifle a laugh bubbling in your throat when trying to speed down a rocky hillside as quietly as possible.

From the foot of the little hill the couple continued eastward for a while. The houses here were of those less wealthy, but everything was in good repair and the little gardens well-tended. Even within the walls of Edoras housewives planted little garden patches about their houses in hopes of fresh greens. Now, in the autumn most vegetables had been picked (and indeed, some had been eaten the previous evening), but the little patches had already been made ready for the new spring.

Éomer took her hands and turned her to himself.

"I have a feeling that we need to make some decisions, Aefwyn." He led her to sit upon a stone fence about two feet high at the edge of the road. It had been carefully built around a small garden that had seen better times. In fact, the dwelling looked uninhabited, but was still in good condition.

"I feel I should finally take my seat in Aldburg. That decision stopped being mine alone yesterday. Would you want to go back to Aldburg, this time as its Lady?" Aefwyn sat still and silent for a while.

"It is your home, Éomer, and it has waited for you patiently. I shall go wherever you wish to take me." She looked up at him and smiled.

"And I do think it is time you returned there." Éomer nodded and turned his gaze northwards.

"Then I suppose we better leave before we will be snowed in. It is mere months to snowfall."

Éomer helped Aefwyn up from her seat after a few moments and the newlyweds continued their walk. The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated by them pointing out different details of the town around them every once in a while. She held her hand at the crook of his arm, his head bowed to her direction, both ignoring the accepting gazes from the passers-by, completely absorbed in a world of their own.

After walking for a bit over an hour they returned to the Golden Hall. Day was well past noon, the afternoon sun hot and ripe on the sky. They ate a small and belated lunch in the Hall, discussing their plans further.

oOo

Three weeks had passed since the Harvest Feast. While the weather was still pleasant, the approaching winter could be felt. The mornings had a cool, sharp moisture to them, and even though the sun quickly warmed the air after rising above the horizon the light no longer seemed quite so potent.

Aefwyn had started their preparations three days after their wedding, after Éomer had made arrangements with the king. Théoden King had been pleased of Éomer's decision; Aldburg was the second largest settlement of the rohirrim and the second most important. Éomer was the heir to its seat and in Théoden's opinion it had been high time for him to return.

Éomer's éored had also been informed after Éomer had made his decision. Many of the younger Riders in the éored had married girls from the capital and they too made plans to move their families to Aldburg.

In a week's time, Éomer would take Aefwyn to Aldburg to see the current condition the hall was in after standing empty since Aefwyn's departure. Aefwyn would then find new servants to fill in all the empty positions, which she already knew would be numerous. Since her mother had been the head maid of an empty hall for years, new servants had not been hired when old ones had left or died, and the hall had for years before Aefwyn's departure been running on the backs of few of the remaining servants. Their sole focus was to keep the hall in a condition of neatness for the eventual return of their lord – they had no pressure in this work, but the hall was kept free of pests and most of the dirt and dust that would have accumulated.

Three weeks had also given Aefwyn three weeks' worth of nights she had never been able to imagine during her maidenhood. All in all, she could not have hoped more of a marriage than this seemingly endless bliss that now awaited her in the arms of her husband. The world was going their way now, and she was determined to enjoy that while it lasted.

For she knew this state of bliss could not be endless: there were dark rumors from the East, of a shadow slowly taking form beyond the mountains far beyond the mires of Dagorlad, beyond the borders of Gondor of old. In time, she knew, should such darkness be allowed to grow, it would pour from the wastes beyond the Black Gates to storm their peace.

The Black Gates and the evil that resided there was a tale of the grim past, but it had been part of their lessons in history along with the pact Eorl the Young had made with the Steward Cirion before the rohirrim had first settled Calenardhon now known as Rohan. Not everyone in Rohan knew history as well, but Aefwyn again needed to thank Lord Éomund and Lady Théodwyn in her mind; they had allowed her to learn.

She folded away yet another new dress to the trunk now slowly filling with her new purchases. It would be a while before Aldburg would be such a center of trade as it had been in times past, so Aefwyn had accumulated a large wardrobe she wouldn't need to refill in a while. Also, she had secured a wealth of household items to take with them, most packed away in large crates made by the resident carpenter of Meduseld. Some of their new possessions – Aefwyn had had no qualms of spending Éomer's wealth in such manner – had already been sent ahead to wait for them.

All in all, she had probably spent more money in the past three weeks than she had even seen in her entire previous life. At first she had taken the receipts to Éomer, slightly sheepish of her spending, but he had waved them away saying that whatever it was he owned she was welcome to it. She kept the books herself then, to see just how much she had spent on their new household. The amounts were not as high as she first had feared, but nevertheless more than she had ever imagined spending.

She had made all sorts of other plans as well, with Éowyn, mostly. They had continued Aefwyn's lessons after the wedding, with Aefwyn now following Éowyn around. Odwyn was still a bit less than courteous, but the presence of Éowyn prevented the most biting remarks.

Aefwyn felt she still didn't know enough of running a household, but at least life in Aldburg was much less complicated than the life at the capital. It would in the beginning lack all tradition of a previous lady apart from what remained in her knowledge, so she would be welcome to make up many of her own rules. Éomer by nature was a warrior and had never shown more interest in ruling as he had been forced as his father's heir. Théoden King had attempted to continue on with what lessons Éomund had given to his young son before his death, but found Éomer a disinterested student more eager to ride his horse and practice with his weapons.

Nevertheless, Aefwyn knew Éomer took his responsibilities seriously. No matter how hard he had previously avoided his duties, now he had embraced them with equal vigor. Many nights they spent reading together by the fire, both towards their interests, before they retired to bed and to other pastimes.

Aefwyn wondered sometimes, briefly, of why her womb had not yet quickened, but deemed it better for now if the thought ever gave her longer pause. The travel, while not long, was before them, and the winter. It would be a while before the Hall of Aldburg would again be a home.

oOo

Another three weeks passed before they stood before the gates of Edoras saying their goodbyes. Éowyn would remain in Meduseld to take care of the King's household, as there was no queen to hold such responsibility.

Théodred was there, also to depart the same day. He would ride with them until the crossing of the Road, but his direction was west, not east. His éored was with him, as eager to be off as their leader. They were already mounted, Théodred having finished his goodbyes first and in good cheer.

Finally the final words had been said and they mounted, Aefwyn again on the mare she had ridden while arriving. And so they were off.

Éomer's éored followed behind them, Théodred's éored ahead. Théodred himself approached them after a while, smiling broadly.

"Cousin, my lady." He performed an elegant bow on the saddle before turning to ride besides Aefwyn and kissing her hand.

"I must say, marrying my cousin becomes you. You look radiant." Then he turned to Éomer, smile never fading, and continued:

"You, however, look like you're missing sleep. I wonder if these two things are somehow connected?" His smile broadened, his lips curved with withheld amusement, when Éomer's pleasant look faded to a somewhat less welcoming scowl.

"I don't mind you flattering my wife, but she should look just about as tired as I, if my count is correct. As you seem to be in good cheer, however, do tell me why?" Théodred winked.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. And under all other pretenses I should still have that much of a gentleman in me. However, I do think my father would finally be pleased." Aefwyn turned to look at him, as puzzled as Éomer.

"Have you told him?"

"Ah, it is too early for that. And I do not want you to tell him either. Just so have I told you that I could share my good spirit." He was silent for a while. They were fast approaching the crossing, but he seemed to have something more to say.

"I would not have told you, but now you are away from the capital. I cannot let a story like this spread there now, with my father's newest advisor on tow." The three of them disliked the man, and indeed he seemed to be gaining influence with the king.

"But now I leave you my goodbyes. Until our roads again cross, cousin. I might even come and visit you after the winter is past."

At that, Théodred urged on his horse and passed his éored again. Éomer called up his lieutenant Éothain and gave him instructions to ride forth with a few men after the crossroads was behind them. The other man nodded and fell back to find his few.

Aefwyn had visited Aldburg two weeks prior, but had seen a few more purchases were necessary. Apparently, after her departure someone had seen it their liberty to come poke around the hall – someone else besides Théodred that was, and likely after him. Some of their new belongings had been moved then, and she had succeeded in recruiting most of her new staff.

Now she was leaving Edoras for a longer period of time, perhaps even for the most of her remaining life. After a woman in her new position had children, she could rarely go galloping off over the plains to visit the capital, or any other place for that matter. Nay, those visits were rare and for special occasions.

At the moment, Éomer was the second in line for the throne after Théodred. Théoden was starting to show his advancing years, slowly, but Théodred was still a man in his prime and had plenty of time to father a Hall-full of children. Even the marriage he now lacked would certainly be remedied once Théodred ascended his throne, if not earlier.

When Théodred would marry and father an heir, Éomer would no longer be in direct line to the throne, and they would be truly free in their happiness. Should a more evil future throw Éomer to the throne, their marriage would still endure, but it would have to bear greater pressures. The nobles for one would certainly try to propose setting her aside. Discord and unrest were the last things she wanted to cause.

They held a break a couple hours past noon, and ate a sturdy meal of bread, cheese and dried meat to ward off their hunger. Some Riders took a moment to sleep for a while, and Aefwyn also closed her eyes for a while, tired by the late autumn warmth that graced their journey and a full stomach.

She did not sleep for long, however, as soon Éomer touched her shoulder and they were off again. It seemed so even when they set to sleep for the night, for the morning seemed to come as soon as she closed her eyes.

This was the day they would reach Aldburg, however, and they had made far better speed than Aefwyn riding alone.

Truly, not soon after their departure, perhaps an hour or two of fast riding, did they see the wooden walls of the city, the hall standing proudly over the city higher on the hillside. Aldburg was a bit closer to White Mountains than Edoras, and was built in a slope with the Hall on top. It was not on a hill like Edoras, however, and behind the Hall there were no buildings, just a wide alley and the parapets of the wall.

As the city grew closer, a new kind of peace set upon Aefwyn. She would be among only friends here, and none of the gossip, strife and quarrel of Edoras had followed. Some of the Riders' wives were from Edoras, but they were as fiercely loyal to Éomer as their husbands.

That was no wonder: despite his temper he was a very handsome man, intelligent and caring. He was a just man, in such that he never punished his men too hard for the petty offences they committed, nor even in the greater once as sometimes happened. In short, he had grown to be a good ruler without ever wanting to learn.

In his youth he had been propelled with anger and vengeance against the Orcs, and there was still nothing he hated more than the foul creatures. Some of that hunger had been sated during all his years fighting for his country, and he had been mellowed by the return of this mysterious servant, as his éored saw Aefwyn. They had noticed the change in their commander during that long and in the beginning very innocent courtship. Now their Lord seemed so jovial and laid-back as they had never before seen him.

For that the Lady riding by his side deserved all their gratitude. The mentality in this was simple: Éomer's life had not brought him much joy before this girl had come along, therefore she was good for their commander and they loved her for it. It was a loyalty Aefwyn did not yet need, but in time it would prove invaluable.

* * *

><p>AN: I decided to cut it here. I have kept you waiting too long as it is, so I didn't want to keep you from it any longer. The next possible break would have not made as much sense and it would have been a lot later. I may not have been posting or writing that much, but I've been figuring it out on my head. I pretty much know how I'll spend these few years before the war. Some may call it filler material, I call it a peace before the storm. I'm not really sure how far I'll be going with showing their relationship. I don't mind reading something a bit naughty, but I'm not really sure if I can write it or if it even fits. We'll see.

I hope I won't be as long in coming with the next one. I'm pretty ashamed of myself at being this slow .'


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Okay. So this turned out... a bit different than what I at first had envisioned it as, but nonetheless, I was in constant _flow_ for the first 2,5k words. The rest I wrote this morning, and I'm still a bit groggy so if you spot any typos I've missed, go ahead and leave me a comment and I'll fix it.

I'll throw you some lore afterwards.

* * *

><p>The next year was spent mostly rebuilding Aldburg to its former strength. Éomer spent as much time riding with his éored, so the daily running was, as expected, Aefwyn's responsibility. She did not conceive that first year, which they both took as a blessing, for more often than not they both fell to their bed exhausted.<p>

Her work paid off, and the city began to grow anew. The hall was returned to its former glory, wall hangings and old war memorabilia again decorating the walls. The fire pit in the hall had been relined with smooth rocks from the river; new trestle tables had been made with long benches to match. The Lord's seat at the end of the great hall had been supplied with a new pillow, even.

Most of the rooms had been refurnished where necessary; and the kitchens had been repaired to a more modern state: they had been in almost original condition. Servant's quarters had also received a new touch, although they were at the oldest part of the hall and thus still suffered from a few faults.

In the spring of their second year of marriage, Aefwyn started to miss her monthly bleeding. At first she put it up to a difficult winter, but the second month she faced the truth: life had finally begun under her heart. Éomer was out then, and she worried her fears away before he even returned. When he finally did, he took the news just as Aefwyn had expected: boisterously.

Théodred visited them with some consistency. He told them of his budding relationship, still a very close secret in fear of the court gossip and the ever growing power of Gríma. Éowyn had not visited, but often sent letters, to both of them separately and for them to share with each other. As was the habit of the time, most letters were products of days of writing, usually begun at the beginning and sent forth at the end of the week. Éomer and the King had a correspondence as well, but it was spurious and often interrupted by Éomer's rides out. Éomer of course often conversed with the King in person in Edoras, or at least when his patrols took him to that direction.

As often as not, Éomer rode east, reporting of horses being stolen from the herds in the dark of night. Where they were taken, no one knew, but it had been going on for years. No matter how studiously the éoreds combed the green, grassy hills of their plains, they could not find those responsible. Not all as it was, for no matter how many Orcs they slew, horses still went missing.

At midwinter Aefwyn went to labor and gave birth to their first child, a girl they named Morwen for Théoden's mother, Morwen of Lossarnach, whom the rohirrim had called Morwen Steelsheen. When Fengel King had died and Thengel his son had been summoned from Gondor to rule, he had brought with him his wife Morwen and his son and heir, the future king Théoden. Théodwyn, Éomer's mother, had been born in Rohan. There had been two other children as well, girls, but they had married to Gondor as per their mother's will.

Éowyn took after Morwen in her height and lithe figure, in the cool grey-blue of her eyes and grace of the old blood. It was a strength Aefwyn wished to convey to her daughter as well in these troubled times.

Aefwyn knew Éomer had wished for their firstborn to be a boy, but it was a joy to watch the two together after his initial disappointment had faded. This was to no small amount their daughter's doing, for baby Morwen had soon wrapped her father around her tiny fingers. And it seemed her father was a willing victim to her charms.

It was not only her name the little girl had seemed to inherit from her great-grandmother, just as Aefwyn had wished. She had strength of will from early age to only be overshadowed by her father, and it was clear she was to be dark-haired, even though both of her parents were relatively fair. Her eyes were a curious mix of her mother's dark blue and a cold grey.

At the autumn of 3014, Aefwyn found herself pregnant again and this time both Éomer and Éowyn were present to share her joy. Éowyn had finally managed a visit, though her companions were always conscious of her worry for Théoden King, whose health at the age of 67 was continuing its steady decline that had started four years ago. Gríma, now quite openly referred to as Wormtongue, was the King's closest advisor. He had his eyes on Éowyn, as she confessed, worried, but she was still confident she could fend off his approaches.

Éomer had seen this too, and Aefwyn shared the helpless fury he felt for being unable to help the younger woman. Éowyn, at the age of 19, was a stunning figure, and had the king been at the height of his health, she would have had suitors to fight over her hand. At present, however, Gríma kept the suitable men out of the court while keeping the King in the dark as well as he could. Éomer would have had the authority over his sister's hand, but he had thus far been unable to remove Éowyn from the court for any notable lengths of time.

And of course, Éowyn was ever needed in Meduseld. Her beauty and light seemed at times to be the only thing keeping Théoden from succumbing to his aging illness. Her capable hands were the only barrier between the Hall falling to disarray and slow destruction and staying functional.

Orc raids had increased, and now there were sometimes bigger orcs among them, previously unseen. Éomer oft visited the capital during or after his patrols, and his views of the situation there were as grim as Éowyns.

Late May the next spring Aefwyn gave birth to the long-awaited son. His name was a result of a quickly exchanged glance between the new parents; in honor of his grandfather he was named Éomund. Morwen took a fiercely protective attitude over the baby, despite being only a bit over two years old.

The King was now becoming more seriously hampered by his age; in her letters Éowyn often worried of the King so quickly waning beyond his years. Théodred in his visits tried to offer better cheer, but he too was concerned. His cheer was a bit forced, a bit _too_ cheery, and left Éomer and Aefwyn looking at each other with worried eyes.

Gríma Wormtongue had had his way with the things at the capital fairly quickly. Several of his most audible critics had been forced to leave under partly made up charges, Éomer told Aefwyn once after returning from Meduseld. Éomer was hesitant to get involved, however, as he felt politics too complicated for a straight-forward man like himself to maneuver. At current times, he was undoubtedly right: Gríma was too slimy an opposite in his current home field.

Aefwyn focused herself decidedly on home-building. Her two children were in perfect health, Morwen learning new words seemingly overnight, even the kind of words Aefwyn would have preferred her daughter never to learn. Sometimes she allowed herself to wonder wherever a two-year-old could hear such language.

It was quite a happy time for them. Despite the worrisome developments in Edoras, Aldburg was prospering, their herds were multiplying and the crops were good.

Aefwyn had first made sure the Hall in its functions was running surplus, and then concentrated on making the city grow. This was her obligation as the Lady of the city while her Lord husband was away: to make sure that his city prospered. With a similar earthy effectiveness alike how she governed her Hall she slowly transformed the city into a great prospect for future businesses.

There were problems on that front as well. Some merchants were not too happy to have competition, and some were rather vocal about their opinions. After having heard a few conversations that took place without Éomer's presence Éothain, who happened to be in town, took up to himself to go correct the merchants. Aefwyn learned of it afterwards, but she kept her peace since it had obviously worked. The merchants had a new-found respect for her, and they too discovered that more trade in the whole town meant more wealth for them too in the long run.

Éomer took a long look at the accounts once in a while, giving a low laugh at the steady growth of figures. Who would have known his wife to be such a clever little thing? He should have, but he had never known she carried such world-altering views of trade and ruling. She kept her smooth, smiling face on, and hid beneath it a very shrewd stateswoman.

In 3017 Éomer was made Third Marshal. A year prior their third child, Éohild, was born. She was a calm child, never making a fuss of herself in the hall now often quiet in waiting of worrisome news. The King was heavily ailing, and hadn't left his hall in years. Éowyn's letters were full of worries that were as quickly amended into nothingness by almost panicked smoothing of how things were still better than to be expected with such heavy Orc movements in the western regions. Neither Aefwyn nor Éomer believed Éowyn's assurances, and often exchanged worried glances over the letters.

Éomer had told Aefwyn how many of the guard of Medulsed had been replaced by men only Gríma knew, rough-looking, dark men. Aefwyn feared for Éowyn, who was alone in such company. Hopefully Gríma's attentions would at least keep her safe from these suspicious guards. Éowyn would likely be able to handle Gríma by himself, as she had managed so until now.

Éomer was now often away, leaving Aefwyn alone to their Hall. Her days were filled with activity, but her nights were lonely. Her beloved husband was hundreds of miles away; fighting in battles she could in no way help him.

Her children gave her much comfort. Morwen was learning to read, dark little head often bent over a book way too complicated for her in subject. Aefwyn's suggestions for more proper reading were quickly dismissed, and knowing better than to try to force her daughter, Aefwyn gave up. Morwen would keep her head anyway and just ignore whatever Aefwyn brought her until she was given her free choice again.

Éomund was going through a very headstrong phase, determined to do everything by himself. If Éohild hadn't been so compliant and easy, Aefwyn might have thought herself to be giving birth to a herd as stubborn and unwieldy as her husband.

Not that Éomer was very stubborn when it came to her, as usually she just needed to imply she might have preferred a thing to be in such a way instead of this or that, and find it done by next morning. At the beginning of their marriage it had made her blush, but now she saw it as Éomer's way of showing his love. Whatever his Lady might wish for should be hers if it was to his power. Such a simple thinking had not at first occurred to Aefwyn, but now she knew to take his gifts as they were, professions of the feelings he couldn't put to words.

He was the same way with their children. If he had been to Edoras while riding out he would usually bring them back something small. The children, or to say it better, Morwen and by extension Éomund knew they would not get these little treats every time, and also knew better than to ask for them. Their Lord father would get around to it eventually if it was to be.

The year 3018 began rather peacefully. The Orcs seemed to be waiting, as the attacks diminished to almost nothing. The late summer, however, there were several sightings of black-clad riders traveling towards west, but no new sightings were made after the halfway of September.

Soon after Gandalf the Grey had been to Edoras, Éowyn told in a letter. He had been given a horse, but later the King had received word that Gandalf had found Shadowfax and had been able to mount him. Aefwyn was reading this alone, as Éomer was once more away from home.

Soon after these news Aefwyn again found out her pregnancy, which must have begun before Éomer last rode out in the beginning of September. A spring baby that would again give her, as by her calculations the baby should be born in May.

The end of the year was dotted with Orc attacks from the west, led by these new stronger, bigger Orcs calling themselves Uruk-Hai. As of yet they wore no mark upon their armor, but they were less shy of the sun as the smaller orcs and goblins they led. There were occasional attacks by the men of the mountains and other Men less friendly towards the Riders of Rohan and the people of the Mark.

Her pregnancy progressed steadily, by January of 3019 showing a small bulge under her clothes. Her previous pregnancies had left her with rounded hips and an ample bosom, but to her own amazement her waistline had remained almost as narrow as during her maidenhood. There was some loose skin on her belly, and her thighs would never again be as firm, but for a mother of three, this was a figure to be proud of.

oOo

At the end of February news came from Edoras. Not as usual by one lightly armored messenger, but as a group of ten fully armored riders. They waited for Aefwyn in the yard, as she opened the main doors of the hall to the bright cool morning air.

She was dressed heavily in fur, her pregnancy now obvious even under her heavy winter clothes. The child was an active one, kicking constantly at her ribs. It usually quieted for the night, but even then she awoke often to relieve herself. That was why she appeared more tired than usual, with light purple shadows under her eyes.

The captain of the men was a red-haired man Aefwyn remembered well from Edoras.

"Gamling! What news from Edoras?" Her voice was still happy, but her smile soon faded as she took in his grim expression.

"Your Grace, we are to escort you and your children, if you so wish, to Edoras. Prince Théodred has fallen at the Fords of Isen not three days past. Éomer has left the capital in anger to chase the Orcs and has raised the wrath of the King." Gamling had kneeled at first, the strange honorific sounding wrong in her ears, until she heard what he said next.

The red haired captain had looked heart-broken, as Théodred had been well loved by all his men. And by the women as well, especially the one that had loved him in secret to the end. Théodred's death made Éomer the heir to the throne as well. Aefwyn did not know, but she blanched at the thought, and for a moment Gamling had thought the Lady would faint. She did not, however, but looked Gamling squarely as the last words were said with a sarcastic set of mouth, and forced her to answer with a common retort:

"The wrath of Wormtongue, you mean. I shall come with you, but my children are better left in care of the staff. I would not take them near the snake as long as they are to inherit the throne one day." She brushed her hands to her dress, a sudden determination steeling her will.

"Come in, sit. Have a cup to drink and warm your feet. I shall make ready with haste." Gamling nodded and motioned with his hand for the men to dismount. Their steeds were taken to food and water, and to enjoy the warmth of the stables for a while as well. The winter had been cold, and the early days of the month had promised an early spring, but it was yet cold in the foothills.

She hastened in and gave commands. She went to find her children's teachers and nannies. After making sure they knew what was expected of them in her absence, she said her goodbyes to her children. Morwen looked at her with solemn eyes and nodded gravely when she told her to be brave and listen to her nannies. She didn't tell the children their favorite uncle (even though Théodred had technically not been their uncle) was dead, for at this point it would not help them to know. They would learn in time, when she could ease their sorrow herself.

While she packed she gave instructions to the captain of their household guard. If indeed the prince had fallen at the Ford, his foe must have had been well armed and strong in numbers. This meant that Aefwyn wanted the man to reinforce and check all of the city's defenses and start the muster of men from the further regions.

"The King has not as of yet given the command to muster men. But I want you to do this despite it, for I fear my Lord and the King will have to thank us for it later." The man nodded solemnly and left. He had been in Éomer's service for a long while, and even in the service of Éomund his father before him. He had been a Rider in his youth, but now served as a captain to the household guard, as fervent in his loyalty as the rest of the men.

She took her saddlebags to the hall, giving out final instructions to the head maid. After she was finished with that task, she called out to Gamling.

"I am ready. Let us make haste." She had changed her clothing after packing, putting on an extra petticoat and a woolen underskirt to ward of the wind.

Gamling and his men took up from their seats as one after she had called out, and they left the hall without further ceremony. The men mounted their horses and Gamling held his hand for Aefwyn.

"You are not dressed for haste I'm afraid, my lady, but my steed is strong and can bear us both safely." She took the hand and mounted the horse with his assistance.

The men were riding as fast as the road permitted, faster at times and more carefully at others. The road was partly thawed were the sun had easy access, but in shadier places the road was still snowy and in parts frozen. It was a well-traveled road, however, and the layer of snow was tightly packed. There were some ruts in the thawed sections, but as the weather dried and warmed more towards spring, the bumps would again level down.

Indeed, they were progressing at a speed that made Aefwyn suspect they were attempting to reach Edoras without resting for the night. The journey was long, however, and as the day was now almost past noon, they had no chance of making it before dark.

Indeed, the eastern sky was starting to lighten as the horses trotted up the hill. It was the 29th of February of 3019 Third Age, and the Lady of Aldburg had come to Meduseld.

* * *

><p>AN: Indeed. This chapter spreads all the way from 3011 and the wedding to the years of the War of the Ring. To flesh out the timeline a bit:

3012 - In December, Morwen, daughter of Éomer is born.

3014 - At this point, the canon timeline states Théoden starts to fall ill. Well, I'd figure that a man does not really age overnight for the worth of twenty+ years, so Gríma's had a bad influance on him for a while longer. Also, in May, Éomund, son of Éomer is born.

3016 - Éohild, daughter of Éomer is born.

3017 - Gollum is released from Mordor and recaptured by Aragorn in February. Aragorn takes Gollum to Woodland Realm. Gandalf rides to Minas Tirith and finds the Scroll of Isildur.

3018 - Sauron attacks both Woodland Realm and eastern Gondor. Radagast the Brown gives Gandalf a message from Saruman which in July, leads to Saruman trapping Gandalf to the pinnacle of Orthanc, from where he escapes September 18, which is also the day Black Rides cross the Fords of Isen. Gandalf travels to Edoras, but Théoden turns him away granting him a horse. 23 Sep Frodo leaves Bag End and Gandalf leaves Rohan. 26-28 Sep Frodo hangs out with Tom Bombadil and Goldberry. He meets Strider at the Prancing Pony on the 29th. The next day Aragorn and the hobbits leave for Rivendell. Gandalf is then attacked on Weathertop after he rides past the walkers on October 3rd. Oct 6 Frodo is wounded on the Weathertop. Oct 9 Elrond sends out scouts, including Glorfindel, who then finds the party on the 18th. Oct 20 Frodo reaches Rivendell. Oct 25, Council of Elrond is held, and finally, the Fellowship leaves Rivendell 25th of December.

3019 - EVENTS SO FAR - Jan 15 Gandalf and the Blarog fall from the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm. The rest of the Fellowship continues to Lórien, meeting Galadhriel and Celeborn on Caras Galadhon on 17th January. Feb 16, the Company leaves Lórien. Feb 25 Théodred dies in the First Battle of the Fords of Isen. Feb 26 Boromir dies and the Fellowship is broken. Feb 27 Éomer riders out from Edoras in pursuit of the Orcs; Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli reach Rohan. Feb 28 Éomer and his éored kill the Orcs and Uruk-hai at the edge of Fangorn; Merry and pippin escape into Fangorn.

This leaves us to the situation on the morning of February the 29th. Éomer is riding across the plains towards his meeting with the Three Hunters, and Aefwyn is arriving to Edoras where the King sits ailing on his throne.

The pace will again slow down a bit, I can't rush through the war at this pace, now can I.

I just see no point in describing every day of their lives for almost eight years, when the grand scheme of things is already clear to all of us. Sure, it would add a lot to the story, but those are not the aspects I want to focus on.

I know this chapter is up way sooner than expected of me, but consider it an apology of my tardiness. I hope to keep up a better pace in the near future, but I can give no promises. I'd hate to have to break them if things turn out for worse. Until next time *wave*


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Hello again! Just finished retouching this chapter the other night, and now I finally have a moment to post it.

I borrowed quite heavily with the dialogue, mostly because there is no way for me to say these things any better than Mr. Tolkien did, and secondly because this is about my favorite part of the books (the next four or so chapters included, I figure).

I'm butchering canon insofar as Gamling goes, for he is supposed to be in Helm's Deep. Noticed that mishap when editing, but couldn't figure who else I could fit in. So screw that. You can take the dates and go dig around for example Encyclopedia of Arda if you feel like it (it's such a useful site, go take a look if you haven't been there yet).

* * *

><p>It was the second time in her life now that she rode into Edoras, she reflected. The first time had been very much different however, for she had been alone and scared to see what would happen.<p>

Now, at least, she was not alone.

Scared she was; she could not deny it.

Gamling spurred his horse forward for one final leg, the short one from the gates to the stable. She felt weary to the bone, despite having slept while underway. Her bladder was as well full to bursting, and she had never been happier that her pregnancy was not yet too far to disallow riding.

It would be soon, however, so she would have to stay in Edoras, no matter what. No more riding, and in a few months she wouldn't prefer walking either.

A guardsman she didn't recognize helped her off Gamling's mount. He had not been here the last time, or then he had been very good at hiding. Or then, she thought more realistically, this was one of Gríma's. Gríma had placed his own men into many key positions within Meduseld after the King had fallen too ill to rule by himself.

Gamling dismounted after her and left his horse to a stable hand. In normal conditions no Rider would leave his horse to be tended by someone else, but now times were dire, and he didn't want to allow the future Queen of Rohan into Meduseld by herself, not while Gríma was on the loose. Gamling was very well aware that Éomer was now the only heir of the king's own kin, and this woman as Éomer's wife and the mother of his children – including the one still under her heart – was just as important as the Marshal himself.

None of this he had told Aefwyn, however, after mulling things carefully in his head over the ride there and back. Aefwyn knew what Théodred's death meant and didn't need Gamling to tell it to her. Gamling felt responsible for her safety, for he had brought her here.w

They ascended the stairs together, in an amenable silence. They were both weary to the bone, and glad to be finally where they were supposed to be. The guards opened the twin doors, silent, to the captain and let the pair enter the Hall.

It was even darker than usual, gloomy and chilly in the morning light. The big pit was yet unlit, but soon a servant would come to light the hearth for a new day. Aefwyn excused herself and went to relieve herself. After that she returned to the hall to find Gamling in deep conversation with Éowyn.

"Éowyn!" Aefwyn sighed out her friend's name and the younger woman turned towards her. They embraced fiercely, though Aefwyn's growing abdomen was somewhat in the way. Éowyn looked tired, with dark circles like bruises under her clear eyes. Her lithe form looked a tad too thin to Aefwyn's liking, and a second kind of fear seeped into her abdomen.

"Éomer rode out when he heard of a party of Orcs coming from the hills. I've not heard any news since, but he rode with his whole éored. Uncle is wroth with him, but that is the work of Wormtongue." Her voice was an urgent whisper in Aefwyn's ear: not even the empty hall was safe enough for louder speech.

"But come, you are weary." Gamling also parted with a bow for each woman, undoubtedly to see to his horse and dismiss his men before going to sleep himself. For a while now, Aefwyn's arrival would be safe from the Counselor, and that while meant he as well might catch an eyeful of sleep.

Éowyn led Aefwyn to her chambers and ushered her in.

"Rest for a while, I shall go get some food." With these words she was gone again, the door silently shut behind her.

Aefwyn slept for a bit over an hour. She woke to the smell of fresh bread and quickly rose from the bed. Éowyn was nowhere to be seen, but the bread was still warm from the oven. With it, Éowyn had brought her a pitcher of dark blueberry juice and some fresh butter. With relish she cut herself a big slice and relished the salty sweet taste of fresh butter that melted instantaneously on the warm bread. She had not realized how hungry she'd been, but now her head was clearer.

She let her thoughts wander to the plains where her Lord husband was probably riding towards east, towards these orcs. She could do nothing more than trust that he would return to her as he always did.

She tried to keep herself calm, for herself and for the baby under her heart. The child was asleep as well, silent within her. It would do her no good to worry now: it might even bring the child forth too early, she had heard of that happening. Éomer was a seasoned warrior, no stranger to these beasts he now hunted, and Aefwyn knew she could lay her full trust with her husband and everyone by his side.

Éowyn entered after two more slices, closing the door behind her firmly. By this time, the storm within Aefwyn had calmed, and she had gained mastery of her emotions once again. All the years of censuring her thoughts as a servant gave her tools to soothe her mind and to focus on the moment and place she was in. Her years governing Aldburg had given her tools to wisely spend her time, and this was what she intended now. It was clear the Orc movements in the west were nothing if not a beginning, and the city should be prepared for whatever would soon come.

"Now, I must caution you. Théoden King is not completely aware his son has perished. He has been told, but no one except the Snake seems to get through to him. And I fear it is not in the Worm's best intent to tell him quite yet." Aefwyn nodded. Éowyn had a sad look in her eyes.

"Éomer knows, and that is part what spurred him to ride out." Éowyn rose, wringing her skirts in her hands, nervousness clearly visible in her every move and expression. She looked worn, tired, and older than her years. Aefwyn's heart clenched. They should have stayed here, protected Éowyn somehow. But shoulds and ifs were useless; she had no power over the past.

"Éomer does what he thinks is best. Even the wrath of the King may be swayed elsewhere in time for his return." Aefwyn didn't believe it, knowing full well who was really behind everything, but stranger things had happened. She would need to give Éowyn her peace and strength of mind for now, for the younger woman was more distraught and in great grief.

oOo

Éomer dismounted his horse to study the prints on the ground. He took a hard look towards northwest and then glanced at Éothain.

"Awfully close to Fangorn, Éomer." The other man said.

"That is where they are going, and that is where we will follow. But first we watch and plan. I intend to keep my men alive today."

The band of Uruk-Hai had descended from the mountains not too long ago, and he had given them a merry chase from afar, steadily approaching them. And now their paths were crossing with the orcs at last.

Dusk fell slowly around them as they prepared to attack the orcs. The orcs had spotted them a bit earlier and had redoubled their efforts, but Éomer thought to chase them bit further up the riverside until it was full dark. Some of his éored were skilled with bow and took out the ones who couldn't quite keep up. The stronger, bigger Orcs – the Uruk-Hai, now openly carrying the White Hand of Saruman – were further up front, and to his eyes in the hazy dusk it looked as if they were carrying something. He couldn't quite see what, and it mattered not, for time was growing short for these orcs.

A bit after nightfall he had the orcs encircled on a small hill. No more than two hundred of the foul creatures remained, he was certain. Éomer gave order to put up many a small fire around the hill, to completely hem it in light. The orcs shot their black-feathered arrows towards the fires for a while, but that was to no avail, as the fires were but a ruse. The men and horses were far beyond them, safely away from the arrows, watching and waiting.

He let the orcs simmer for a few hours until he gave the orders for a few of his Riders to try sneak up the hill. Up they went and created a small havoc in their wake. He had ordered them not to dally, and they came back quickly.

"The best task you've given me all day, Éomer my friend." Who else could he have entrusted with that task other than Éothain? The man understood him from half the word and sometimes knew his will better than he did. Indeed, before he had married Aefwyn, Éothain had oft made remarks of the girl. Éomer was quite certain Éothain had thought that very funny the entire time, whereas Éomer thought he appreciated silence better – had then and would now, for then as well as now Éothain's jests only made him miss his wife.

"I knew you'd enjoy it. Now, I think there is another set of them in the forest… The ones on the hill might have tried a sortie a long time ago unless they are waiting for someone." Éomer had been thinking while he waited, and he had had time to consider the moves he might make, as the leader of the orc-band, as Saruman, or as himself. He had considered the options and had come to the conclusion the orcs would have tried something had they not been waiting… And what else could they possibly wait for other than reinforcements?

All of the sudden, an orc-cry rent the air. It was where his men were patrolling, and Éomer knew the creature had already met its end. Suddenly another cry came, from the forest, shrill and coarse and bloodthirsty all at once. It was echoed by others, no less foul. He looked at Éothain, his purpose clear in his eyes. The other man nodded and trotted off to his horse.

Éomer hated waiting, but he did not wish to meet these Uruk-Hai in the darkness. The Orcs gained power from the dark and saw well even in moonless night. Both were aces up their sleeves for Éomer had neither ability. He had his horse, his sword and spear, and his men, and none of the three would he squander by attacking an unknown foe in their time of strength.

Éothain returned not too much later, telling him of a smaller band of orcs that had clearly been in waiting for these runners. They were dead now, but they too had carried the mark of Isengard.

The Riders closed in on the hill, but still waited.

In the east, dawn broke slowly, the blood-red orb of the sun slowly climbing above the horizon. With it rose Éomer's horn to his lips, and he gave a blow, echoed again by many more like it and with that the Eorlingas urged their steeds forward and crested the hill to meet the orcs.

It was a bloody affair, but over swiftly. Fifteen of his were dead, and twelve horses to boot, but so were all of the orcs. Éomer had slain their leader himself, as it seemed, on a swordfight. It had been even in the sense that neither had been rested, but he had bested the uruk clearly, not even a scratch on him.

Éomer gave orders to drag the dead orcs to a pile and to set fire to it. He gave instructions for the men to gather some wood, but nothing else than dead branches, for he had heard stories of Fangorn, and would not risk angering the spirits that dwelled there, whatever they were.

Their task was grim and dirty, and not over quick enough for their liking, but eventually the corpses were piled onto a pyre and set to fire. For the rest of that day the pyre burned and smoked terribly of burning flesh, but in the end nothing remained but ashes and a few unburned but charred bones.

While waiting for the pyre to burn out they had built a burial mound for their comrades, and now too that task was finished. It was hemmed with their spears, stuck to the ground butt-first, and weapons of their enemies had been laid with them to pay homage to their sacrifice.

It was the morning of the last day of February, and Éomer knew not but another group of men was fast approaching the scene. They were yet a good while out, but they had already seen the smoke rising from the pyre.

Éomer signaled for his men to mount, and in order they rode out. He took the front himself, enjoying the wind that washed away the smell of burning flesh and smoke.

It was not after too long that a call was heard from their side. They had been riding up a steadily climbing slope for a while now, and hadn't expected anyone nearby. Eastemnet had been good farming land in years past, but the herds and people had long since fled the threat of orcs and wild men. To meet a man here was to prepare to a threat, for a friendly face was scarce on these hills.

"What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"

In one fluid change of their course, the horsemen soon encircled the three strangers. It was indeed a curious sight, Éomer thought, as he approached them. His men held their spears towards the triplet and he rode forth to see better.

Éomer held his face in check as he spurred Firefoot forward for a few more steps, also holding his spear leveled towards what looked like the leader of the group. He was a Man, tall and dark-haired and stern by the looks of him, clothed in dark shades of a woodsman except for his cloak which was woven from some grey cloth that seemed to mesh in with the rocky hillside too easily.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" He inquired.

"I am called Strider", said the man.

"I come out of the North. I am hunting orcs." The man had no accent Éomer could recognize. He did not look like a man of Gondor, and his companions were even stranger.

Éomer dismounted and drew his sword, giving his spear over to Éothain who had also dismounted his horse. He stepped very close to the man and looked keenly into his eyes, searching for some answer there. Was this man a friend or enemy of the Mark?

"At first I thought you were orcs yourselves. But now I see it is not so. Yet it is a fool's game to chase orcs as you do: they were well-armed and many. You would have become the prey instead of the hunter had you chanced upon them. But there is something strange about you, Strider." He cocked his head a bit, still looking the man squarely in the eyes.

"That is no name of a Man you give. Stranger even is your garb. How did you hide from our sight? Are you elvish folk?"

"Only one of us is an Elf, Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we did pass through Lothlórien and the favor and gifts of the Lady are with us."

Éomer was surprised to hear this, and in surprise he spoke:

"Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood as tales tell! Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange times indeed. You have her favor, you say, so perhaps you are some net-weavers or sorcerers as well? Why do you not speak, silent ones?" The last words were directed to the other two.

One of them rose to his feet, a stout, stocky figure he recognized as a Dwarf. He held his axe firmly as he spoke:

"Give me your name, horse-master, and perhaps I shall give you mine and more besides." His voice was low and gruff, his gaze not entirely friendly.

"As for that, the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark." The dwarf's next words took him quite by surprise and made his blood boil again.

"Then be warned against foolish words, Éomer son of Éomund, by Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond your thought, and only little wit can excuse you." He heard his men grumble behind him at this insult, and they closed in still holding their spears poised.

"I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it only stood higher from the ground", he grumbled from between his teeth. It was one thing to be questioned by strangers, but to hear insult as well?

"He stands not alone", said the third stranger, the Elf, drawing his long bow.

"You would be dead before your stroke fell." Things might have escalated quite badly from there had not this Strider fellow intercepted them. Éomer felt his blood pounding in his ears, and his fingers were knotted around his sword.

"Your pardon, Éomer!" The Man cried.

"You know not why my companions are in wroth, but perhaps we may set that right. We mean no ill towards the people nor horses of the Mark. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?"

"Very well. But strangers in Riddermark should be a little less haughty in these days of doubt. Now tell me your real name."

"Tell me first whom you serve. Are you friend or foe of the Dark Lord?" Éomer let his eyebrows shoot up at this. The man had the gall to question him? He forced himself to remain calm in face of this slight and answered:

"I serve King Théoden, son of Thengel. We do not serve the Dark Lord, nor are we yet at open war with him. If you flee from him, you had better leave this land, for times are dire and there are troubles on our borders. We only wish to live in peace as we have lived, without any lord except of our own choosing. We welcomed guests kinder in the days past, but in these days unbidden strangers find us swift and hard. Now, who are you, and who do _you_ serve? At whose command you pursue orcs in our lands?"

"I serve no man, but I chase the servants of the Enemy wherever I go. I know enough of orcs to know this was not the choicest method, but I was driven out of options. They took two of our friends captive, and in such chase a man asks for no permissions nor counts enemies unless with his sword. And I am not weaponless." The Man moved back his cloak, and revealed to his eyes a most magnificent weapon.

"Elendil!" he cried suddenly, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the Heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again. Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!"

Éomer looked at this Man, and he seemed to grow, a circlet seemed to shine about his brown in the sunshine, but that vision was soon gone.

"These are strange days indeed", he muttered.

"Dreams and legends spring out of the grass." Then he turned his eyes back to Aragorn and asked:

"Tell me, lord, what brings you here? What is the meaning of these dark words? Long has it been since Boromir son of Denethor rode north so seek answers; and it's also been quite some time since the horse we gave him returned riderless. What doom do you bring from the North?"

"A doom of choice. Tell Théoden son of Thengel your King, that open war is ahead, with Sauron or against him. But if chance allows, I will come speak of this with the King myself. Now I am in great need, and ask for help or at least tidings. You heard we are chasing an orc-horde that took our friends captive. What can you tell us?"

"You need not chase further. The orcs are destroyed." Éomer shrugged.

"What of our friends? No sight of them?"

"There were only orcs." He said this with complete confidence. There had been no humans among the corpses, save for his fallen men.

"Did you search the fallen? Our friends are small; they would look like children to you."

"We searched them and counted them and burned them as is our custom. There were none others, especially no children.

"We do not speak of children", the Dwarf, Gimli, interjected.

"Our friends were Hobbits." Éomer had never heard such a word and said as much.

"A strange name for a strange folk. But these two are our friends and dear to us. It seems you have heard the words that troubled Boromir and Minas Tirith. They spoke of a Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings."

"Halflings!" Éothain barked a laugh besides him.

"Those are children's tales and old stories. Now we live in legend or the green earth in the daylight?" Éomer glanced at his friend, missing Aragorn's reply and got back a steely gaze. Éothain had taken the earlier slights somewhat to heart it seemed, and now muttered to Éomer:

"Time is pressing, my lord, let them go on and let us go too. Unless you wish to take them to the King."

"Peace, Éothain! You get the éored assembled and ready to ride towards Entwash." The last was spoken in their own tongue and Éothain left, even if a bit grudgingly.

Éomer remained for a while and got to hear how a company of nine had left Rivendell , among them Boromir and Gandalf the Grey.

That led Éomer to tell about how Gandalf had secured himself the displeasure of the King by taking Shadowfax. The meara had returned, but was now wild and unruly and let none approach.

He also heard of Gandalf's fall in Moria, a thing that saddened him, knowing it would make a certain someone in Edoras happy to know these news. He was even more shocked by the news of Boromir's death, for he had met the Steward's son and had known the man somewhat. He was equally amazed to learn what kind of a distance the remnants of the company had covered in only four days while chasing the Uruk-Hai, and didn't hesitate to say so.

He invited the Man to help in defense of Rohan, for a threat hung still upon Westemnet. Aragorn declined, and Éomer understood he'd want to find out what happened to his companions.

They came to an amenable parting in the end. He went to his éored and gave the three travelers directions to the dead orcs. It was not a hard task, for they had seen the smoke of the fire, and when they'd get closer the remains could be smelled a good while off.

He even gave them horses, but made them swear to return them to Meduseld after they had found their friends. Éothain wasn't exactly pleased, but it was yet Éomer that was the Marshal, and Hasufel and Arod were brought forward.

Éomer led his éored away from the company after farewells, still-seething Éothain by his side.

"So, what did these strangers tell you?" he asked after a few miles. Éothain's voice was curt, his fine features in a frown. For some reason Éomer wanted to laugh at his pouty look, but he quickly chased away the thought. He didn't quite want to have Éothain upset with him as well.

"Gandalf the Grey has fallen in Moria and Boromir not four days ago upon the Falls of Rauros. How do you find these tidings? For I find them dark and would mull on them for a while." Éothain's face fell. He knew both men by name only, but knew his commander considered these grave news. And indeed, Boromir had not only been the son and heir of the Steward but also an esteemed captain of Gondor and his death was a grievous loss.

Éomer let his mind wander further south and west. There would be another attack at the Gap, he knew: another battle at the Fords, even. His gut told him that, and his gut also told him victory was very much uncertain.

Now he would need to ride to Edoras, with all haste. Undoubtedly these news would have little impact on his uncle as things stood, but he would have to try.

* * *

><p>AN: So, I cut out a fair bit of dialogue Aragorn and Éomer had in the book, just because the chapter is mighty long as it is and most of it isn't really that important as to repeat it in it's entirety - and in bits it looks stupid. It's pretty much the longest chapter yet, but it might not remain so long. I'm still doing retouches to ch. 19, and 20 has been begun. I'm not promising I'll have time to publish them right after I'm finished though, but there'll be another chapter in July, that much I CAN tell.

Thank you all for your patience with me (I know I give the word 'sporadic' a whole new meaning), and thank you also for all the reviews - they keep me on this story even when I wouldn't otherwise feel like touching it. I have been really inspired about this the whole summer though, and I've got a lot planned, so if you'll bear with me for a while longer we'll get some real action and less of... waiting, I suppose :D

(This author's note now officially makes no sense, sorry.)


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Ha. So okay. I inadvertently lied to you. I'm sorry for that. But for pretense, it's still July, right? Right?

Anyway. I've had this one mostly finished for a while after having some recurring PC-trouble. (Also, Microsoft didn't want to believe my Office is authentic, but that's a sidetrack.) I won't keep you longer.

* * *

><p>"Éomer has returned!" Éowyn's voice woke her from fitful sleep.<p>

"Come, come quick!" Aefwyn hastened into a loosely fitting dress and tied her belt about where her waist had been three months ago when she'd last seen it. She followed Éowyn into the hall just in time to see her husband dragged away under Gríma's all-too-pleased gaze.

Éowyn gripped onto her arm like a band of steel, but otherwise kept her calm. Loyal men dragged from the Hall had clearly become an all too familiar sight to her eyes.

"Come, we must go. I'll see if we can go see him later. It is too late now." Fear churned within Aefwyn, for she had had enough time to see the despair in her husband's eyes, and the rage that had been there as well.

Éomer had seen Aefwyn, her disheveled hair, her swollen stomach under the flowing gown. For a moment he had allowed himself to look at her, before he had shifted his gaze back onto the Snake by the dais.

It was the sight of his wife that gave him strength of will to remain as calm as he did. His fury boiled in his gut like a pot of boiling lead and his fingers kept clenching into fists.

The cell was cool and damp, just as he remembered seeing it last. Then he had not been one of its inhabitants, though.

He was alone. It was both a blessing and a curse, for other inmates might have had some important insights. On the other hand, he didn't much care for company now. His mood was souring fast, and was it not for one person he would already be contemplating escape.

His wife was there, now so close to him. Aefwyn had been a fountain of peace and love for him for all the years of their marriage. Her sensibility and stability had always been a soothing force on him, her love the beacon that ever guided him home.

It was for Aefwyn he had fought, not only for Rohan. Aefwyn had been patient with him, with his absences, his ever shifting moods, and his abruptness. She had calmed him, but hadn't been able to rid him totally of his warrior's blood. His outrage to the strangers came back to him and brought a mirthless laugh to his lips. If Aefwyn would have seen him then, brandishing his sword, blood boiling. She could hardly recognize that figure as her husband, Éomer reckoned.

Her presence was disconcerting as well as a pleasure, for it put her in danger's way as well. Gríma wanted to get rid of him, and by extension that meant her as well. He could only trust in his wife and in her good sense: she couldn't have brought the children.

oOo

It had been full three days now after Aefwyn's arrival to Edoras.

She had seen the King for the first time after her arrival on the previous evening. The king had aged far beyond his years, his hair and beard now long and white, and his formerly straight back had stooped low. It wrenched Aefwyn's heart to see the once powerful man so diminished, but in her heart she knew she didn't have the strength to help him while Gríma was in Meduseld.

She was in the hall that morning, the second of March, when the doors of the hall suddenly opened and Háma the Doorwarden walked in with the strangest retinue she had ever witnessed. At the head of the company was an old man, leaning on a long white stick, wearing a long grey cloak over his attire. Behind him walked a Man, haggard and unshaven. And yet behind him were two strange figures Aefwyn only recognized from stories: the shorter man must be a Dwarf and the tall, graceful blonde creature had to be an Elf.

She sat still, hoping no one would pay attention to her. This might be just the change that was needed, for Gríma looked positively furious. Éowyn had materialized behind Théoden's chair after hearing the commotion, and Aefwyn decided to go to her.

As silently as she could in her condition she slipped from her seat and scurried to the further end of the room. After reaching Éowyn she heard the old man greet the King behind her and taking Éowyn's arm turned to watch.

The old man had approached the dais and Théoden who sat hunched on his throne. Gríma stood at the bottom of the dais, clearly upset and if Aefwyn saw right even slightly scared. He was speaking, and Aefwyn caught the end:

"…Lathspéll I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say."

"You are thought wise, Master Wormtongue, and you're doubtlessly a great support to your master. Yet in two ways can man come with ill tidings: he may be a worker of evil or he may have come to offer aid." The old man's voice was soft and barely audible where they stood. Aefwyn thought she heard a note of humor in his voice, like he wasn't quite earnest in his words. It suited Aefwyn better than well, if this man could be of aid to the king.

"That is so, but there is also a third kind: meddlers and carrion-crows that grow fat on war. What aid have you ever brought, Stormcrow? The last you were here you sought our aid, and once given leave of a horse, you took Shadowfax in your insolence. My lord was sorely grieved... What kind of an aid do you offer now? Have you brought men, or swords, spears? That I would call aid in our present need! And you have brought with you three grey beggars and yourself the poorest of all." Gríma fell silent after this, watching the old man with half-lidded eyes. From his speech Aefwyn had recognized the man: he was Gandalf the Grey.

"The courtesy of you Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden son of Thengel. Has not my messenger from the gate told you our names? My companions are no ordinary men, and indeed, the weapons you bade us leave by your doors are themselves worth more than some men. Grey is their clothing, for it was a gift of the Elves and it has helped them in many peril." Gandalf spoke to Théoden now, but the king seemed not to hear him speak.

"Then it is true, as we heard from Éomer, that you are in league with the Sorceress of the Golden Wood?" Éowyn and Aefwyn had heard of no such tidings, and exchanged glances. It must have been what got Éomer thrown in the dungeons, then, Aefwyn thought.

"Then it is not to be wondered at: webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene." Gríma had a shrewd, thin little smile plastered on his face, the sort he usually wore in front of anyone who stood in his opposition.

The Dwarf took a few steps forward, but the aged wizard stopped him and sang something softly – Aefwyn could hardly hear his voice at all. When he finished he threw off his cloak and straightened his body. No longer did he lean on his staff, but stood straight and strong, and his eyes were fierce. His clothes were all pure white, and some sort of light seemed to emanate from under his skin, so that his features seemed to catch a dim glow.

"The wise speak only of what they know, Gríma son of Gálmód. A witless worm have you become. Therefore be silent and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I did not go through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a serving-man till the lightning falls." Gandalf's voice was quiet, but full of threat until he spoke of lightning; that word was half a shout and intermingled with the thunder he had somehow summoned. As he spoke he raised his staff and light diminished in the room. Even fire seemed to grow dim to that the only light in the room emanated from the old wizard.

"Did I not tell you, lord, to take away his staff? Háma has betrayed us." A sudden flash like a lightning lit the room for a moment and revealed Gríma sprawling on the floor.

As Gandalf spoke to Théoden, the room seemed to lighten slowly. "Théoden son of Thengel, will you hear me now? Do you ask for help? Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark, for better help you will not find. No counsel have I for those who despair. Yet I would give you counsel, and words I could speak to you. Will you hear them? They are not for all ears. I bid you come out before your doors and look abroad. Too long have you sat in shadows and trusted twisted tales and crooked prompting." His voice was strong, and compelling but kind as well.

Slowly the aged King rose to his feet and Éowyn let go of Aefwyn's hand to hasten to his side. The light in the room grew slowly stronger as Théoden walked down from his dais Éowyn holding his arm. To the door they went, and there Gandalf knocked on it and cried:

"Open! The Lord of the Mark comes forth!" The door creaked open, and sunlight yet again flooded the hall. Gríma was still lying on the floor, but Aefwyn cared little for him as she too went to the door. The King had seemed to grow younger with every stride, his back had straightened, his hair and beard had regained their former salt-and-pepper shades, his eyes were clearer. Truly, the wizard had worked miracles!

She stopped midstride, when Gandalf and Théoden sent away the King's guard. Even Éowyn returned inside, but at the door she turned and Aefwyn saw her lift her gaze to the man who had come with Gandalf. There was wonder in her eyes, and when she turned her gaze to him, she saw something similar in his eyes as well, but buried deeper and better hidden.

The wonder, shock and fear of the sudden happenings had not quite hit her yet, but this look she understood. With similar eyes she had looked upon Éomer once, before she had come to know his secrets and passions. Now she looked at her husband with a far more knowing gaze, but there was no such knowledge in the White Lady, and her eyes were yet innocent.

The Man saw her then, and she had the privilege to see the faint blush upon his cheeks for being thus caught watching the King's niece.

Éowyn had escaped the hall as soon as her gaze with this stranger broke, but Aefwyn remained. She knew in her heart that now that Théoden was again hale, he would soon miss Éomer, and she would not sit and wait for him in some dim room. She went outside to the porch, keeping a clear distance of the King and the Wizard, and left a couple of yards between herself and the three strangers.

Gandalf the Grey was still in deep conversation with the king, speaking in hushed voices. In the end, the King rose, and the Wizard with him, and they turned their gazes east.

"Verily, that way lies our hope, and our greatest fear. Doom hangs still on a thread. Yet there is still hope, if we can but stand unconquered for a little while."

Aefwyn too, felt her gaze shift eastward, even if she knew little of this hope. Dark clouds hung on the eastern sky, ominous, and she quickly brought her gaze back as the king seated himself again.

"Alas that these evil days should be mine, and should come in my old age instead of the peace I have earned. Alas for Boromir the brave! The young perish and the old linger, withering." His hands clutches his knees. His voice was full of despair, yet it seemed he yearned for the hope Gandalf seemed to offer with his mere presence.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped a sword-hilt." At the Wizards words, Théoden's hand went by his hip, but found no sword there. The king looked annoyed, and his lips moved, but Aefwyn was too far away to hear his words.

"Take this, dear lord! It was ever at your service." She turned her head towards that most familiar voice, and indeed, approaching them on the stair were Háma and Éomer, the former in his formal armor, the latter dressed in nothing more than a linen shirt and leather breeches. Éomer had knelt, and offered his sword to his uncle.

"How comes this?" Théoden didn't look entirely pleased, but Aefwyn saw joy in her husband's eyes as he looked at the king, now so invigorated. Háma, the Door-Warden, spoke then:

"It is my doing, lord. I understood that Éomer was to be freed. I may have erred, but such was the joy in my heart. And, since he was free and Marshal of the Mark, I gave him back his weapon."

"To lay at your feet, my lord." Supplied Éomer, bowing his head.

"Will you not take the sword?" Asked the wizard then. Slowly Théoden reached out for the hilt, and when his hand grasped it, it seemed as if the strength had finally returned to his arms. He cried of joy and sang a rhyme calling men to battle, and old rhyme that made cold shivers run down her spine. The guards came, alarmed by his sudden cry, and seeing him so renewed cast their weapons at his feet, one by one, giving to him again their allegiance and asking for his command.

"Westu Théoden hál!" cried Éomer and spoke to Gandalf:

"Never again shall it be said, Gandalf, that you only come with grief." Théoden came to him then, and offered him back his sword.

"Take this back, sister-son, I shall have Háma fetch mine own."

Like he had now been relieved of his uncle's service for a moment, Aefwyn and Éomer drifted towards each other like two pieces of magnetic metal.

He smelled of the dungeons, of horse, sweat and fear, but none mattered now that Aefwyn was once again safe within his arms. And he seemed to agree on that thought, for he was in no hurry to let go of her. To the people of their home it was no news how smitten the Lord Éomer was with his wife, but here it earned quite a few cat calls from passers-by. They heard nothing but each other then, and were conscious of nothing more than their hearts beating the same tune.

Their moment was interrupted when Háma and two guards brought Gríma forth from within the hall. Háma carried with him Herugrim, the sword of Théoden King. Éomer held her close to him as they turned to watch. He planted one final kiss in her hair before turning to face the king.

"Here, lord, is Herugrim, your ancient sword." Háma presented to the king a long sword in a scabbard decorated with gold and green gems.

"It was in his chest, among other things people have missed."

"That is a lie", started Gríma, his face pale, eyes blinking in the sun.

"And the sword master himself gave to my keeping."

"Now I have need of it again. Does that displease you?" The king's tone was light, but it carried an underlying threat.

"Not at all, my lord. I care for you and yours the best I may. But do not weary yourself or tax too heavily on your strength. Surely your guards may deal with these irksome guests? Your dinner has been served for you; wouldn't you care to go eat?"

"I will, and let food for my guests be served alongside mine. The host rides today, send forth the heralds! Let them summon all who dwell nigh, every man and able-bodied lad who can mount a horse. Let them be ready at the saddle by the gate two hours past noon!" At the king's words, many men left the crowd to fetch their horses to fulfill his command. Gríma tried again to plea with the king.

"Dear lord! It is as I feared, this wizard has bewitched you! Are none to be left defend the Golden Hall and all your treasures? None to guard the Lord of the Mark?"

"If this is bewitchment, then it feels much more wholesome than your whisperings. Your leechcraft would have had me crawl on all four like a beast. No, not one shall be left behind, not even Gríma. Go fetch your armor and clean your sword, for you shall ride too."

"Mercy, lord", Gríma wailed, "Do not send me from your side! I at least stand by your side when others have gone. Do not send your faithful Gríma away!" He crawled before the king, seeking pity.

"I will not send you from my side, fear not. You shall prove your loyalty by riding to war by my side."

Gríma's eyes wandered in the crowd, even meeting Aefwyn's as they passed, looking for allies. He looked hunted, like prey when doom is certain.

"Such resolve may be expected from a Lord of the House of Eorl, old as he may be. But those as truly love him, would seek to spare his failing years. Yet I see that I come too late. Others, whom the death of my lord would grieve less, have already persuaded him. If I cannot undo their work, at least her me in this, lord! One who knows your mind and honors your commands should be left in Edoras. Appoint a faithful servant. Let your good counselor Gríma keep all things until you return – and I do pray you do, my lord, though others may not wish it so." Aefwyn was not surprised when she heard Éomer bark a laughter beside her. She had felt him clench his hand in fist by her side more often than once during Gríma's pleas of clemency, but thus far he had held his tongue. Éomer's patience had its limits, and this was the ultimate end.

"And if your plea does not excuse you from war, Master Wormtongue, what office of less honor would you accept? To carry a sack of meat up the mountain, if anyone would be foolish enough to trust you with one?"

It was not Théoden who now spoke, but Gandalf. He addressed his words at first in response to Éomer, and Gríma was wise enough not to interrupt him, even though he clearly had an answer of his own.

"No, Éomer, you do not fully understand the devious nature of Master Wormtongue. He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw. Hours of my precious time has he wasted already. Down, snake!" Suddenly his voice was dark and terrible, his figure seemed to grow in height.

"Down on your belly! How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men are dead, you would get your pick of the treasure and take the woman you desire? Too long have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps."

Éomer grasped his sword and muttered:

"That I knew already, and for that reason I would have slain him before, forgetting the law of the Hall. But there are other reasons." He stepped forward, Aefwyn's hand still on his arm. She held on to him, and Gandalf spoke:

"Éowyn is safe now. But you, Wormtongue, you have done all that you can for your true master. For that, you have earned at least some reward. Yet Saruman often forgets his bargains. You should go quick, lest he forgot what you have done for him."

"You lie", said Wormtongue. Gandalf said to Théoden:

"See, here is a snake. You cannot safely take it with you, but you cannot leave it behind. To slay it would be just. But it was not always as it is now. Once it was a man, and served you after a fashion. Give him a horse, and let him go at once, where ever he chooses. By his choice shall you judge him."

Théoden thought for a while before speaking.

"Here are your choices: either you ride to war with me and there prove to me your loyalty, or ride away and hope we never meet again. Whither you may ride, I care not, but know that if we meet again I shall not show mercy."

Slowly Gríma rose. He scanned the crowd again with half-lidded eyes and for a long while stared at Théoden. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. Suddenly he drew himself straight, his hands flailing upwards before tensing into claws. His thin lips drew back from his teeth, and with a hissing breath spat at the king's feet. Sidestepping between onlookers he ran down the stony stairs and down the hill, his black robes fluttering around him.

"After him!" Théoden commanded.

"See that he does no harm, but let him have a horse if he wishes."

"And if any will bear him." Éomer muttered, his face grim. Aefwyn took his arm again, and his face softened.

"It is done, let us go back inside." One of the guards had fetched water and washed clean the stones again.

"I feared for you, Éomer. Had Gandalf not come and healed the king we would have been helpless." Éomer nodded. In the darkness of his cell these thoughts had haunted his sleep. The thought of Wyrmtongue and his sister… that had made him nauseous. And the peril Aefwyn had been in: unable to leave the court should any ill befall him – as would have been certain had the wizard not come – and mother to his heir: also now the heir to the throne of Rohan.

"I would have figured something out. There were still a few loyal men here…"

"But this is better: no blood has been shed. Even though I wouldn't have minded a bit of Gríma's", Aefwyn said, a bit surprised of her bloodthirst. Éomer laughed though, and kissed again her brow before helping her sit.

"I hope your things are still packed? We must leave with haste."

"I have not unpacked, for I took not much with me. Gamling fetched me when he heard of the Fords, and we were in quite a hurry." The king arrived with his four guests then, and at the same time Éowyn with food and warm drink. Their personal conversation was cut short, but now they knew they would have a while at some point – a thing that had not been a certainty mere hours earlier.

While they ate, Gandalf told what he knew of Wormtongue and Saruman. At the end of their lunch Théoden gifted Gandalf with Shadowfax, though that was an easy gift now when the horse refused to carry any other.

While the guests, Aragorn son of Arathorn and Legolas the Elf were choosing new armor for themselves, Éomer spoke quietly with Théoden. Aefwyn left the men to their discussion and went to fetch her cloak and her belongings. When she returned to the hall, the men were already standing outside. Théoden was speaking to the crowd of men – though a few women were also present, majority were men – below.

"My son Théodred is slain. I name Éomer my sister's son my heir. But to someone I must trust the Hall until we return, and we have chosen Éowyn to stay." Éowyn stopped beside Aefwyn hearing her name, and her face dropped.

"I will stay with you, Éowyn, my time is near. And battle is not a place for me to follow." But Éowyn's eyes were on Aragorn, and Aefwyn knew the reason why she would have wanted along.

She left the younger woman and went to Éomer.

"I had wished for a sweeter farewell, my lady. Will I meet you at Dunharrow?" He took her hand and squeezed it slightly before releasing his grip.

"I shall be there. I am now more glad than ever that I left command for men to be mustered before I left. I felt in my heart something was awry." A smile spread wider on Éomer's face.

"You sweet lady! I shall meet them in Dunharrow as well, for now they will receive the king's summon in Aldburg. It is a soft ride to Dunharrow for them." He kissed her, mounted his horse and spurred it towards the king.

Aefwyn went back to stand beside Éowyn atop the stairs. Two solitary figures, one lithe and young and all in white, her golden hair shining in the sun; the other rounded by her pregnancy, her hair on a tight braid, her mouth a grim, solitary line, stood watching as the retinue rode off, and kept standing until their banners were but specks in the deep blue-green shadow of the mountains.

* * *

><p>AN: I'll tell you right now. The next chapters are proving a challenge, and I'm sorry to say they will take a while. I really hope 20 will be triply finished soon (I have been retouching it and this simultaneously for some details), I really mean it when I say it won't be as long a wait.

Seriously though, I really love getting emails from ff, so review some ;P And a big thank you for all the favorites and follows as well ^^


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Hey all!

So. I decided to upload this because I really had no reason not to. It is by all meanings of the word as finished as it can get. I am not satisfied with any description I tried of Helm's Deep, and this is probably one of the most edited chapters I have so far. I found Tolkien's description a bit vague, but that might just be because English isn't my first language, So if you find any glaring mistakes let me know and I'll fix it.

Thank you for all the reviews and support, it's so great to see so many people want to see how this'll unfold ^^

* * *

><p>They rode on, from late noon to evening, and still on. It was forty leagues as the crow flies from Edoras to the Fords of Isen, where they hoped to meet Saruman's host. It was a great distance, but greater was their need. Still, even the mighty steeds of Rohan need rest, except for perhaps Shadowfax.<p>

At nightfall they finally took their rest. The army risked no fires, and scouts were sent ahead. Guards were posted around the camp. All the precautions were well taken but for naught, as the night passed quietly.

The camp was on the move again at sunrise. Éomer shook his weary thoughts and half-forgotten dreams from his head – perhaps to the exception of the one he'd dreamt of Aefwyn – and continued his mental game of strategy. It was a game he usually enjoyed, but now the stakes were quickly rising too high for his liking. First it had been a game of finding the raiders, then of avenging his cousin, but now it was a game of survival, and he found he enjoyed that game very little.

He knew as well as the king that they'd likely stand no match for Saruman's armies no matter where they fought. The Fords were to him already a place of ill luck, but the river provided them some control there, provided the enemy wasn't approaching on both shores. That was what he would have done, so presumably Saruman had thought of that as well.

His mood soured considerably after that, if such a thing was conceivably possible at this point.

The weather was too warm for the season, the sun a hazy red-and-orange ball, framed by what seemed to be a storm rising in the east. When Éomer turned his eyes north he spied similar clouds over the Misty Mountains where Isengard lay. The Wizard's Vale was covered in impermeable darkness.

His dark thoughts were soon mirrored by Gandalf who had spurred his horse forward to talk with Legolas. Legolas had been riding beside him this morning and now at Gandalf's behest turned his eyes northward.

"I see a great darkness, and like shapes moving within. The darkness is no mist or cloud to fool my eyes, but there is a veiling shadow moving downstream. It is like the twilight under the trees had taken march."

"And behind us comes the storm of Mordor." Galdalf said, his voice grim.

Gandalf spurred his horse forward to convene further with the king, leaving both the Horse-Lord and the Elf to their thoughts. Neither spoke much, for the air felt heavy and cheerless. The same quiet was spread upon the entire host, and the quiet unnerved Éomer even more.

In the afternoon, clouds began gathering; not clouds of wizardry but quite regular clouds looking eager to rain on them. They turned menacing soon enough as the sun declined further. Yet again it was a hazy red ball above the horizon, giving little light and less warmth, even if sunset was still a good while off.

It did look quite impressing though, Éomer mused, to see the men ride forward so, the tips of their spears reflecting the blood-red sun.

He was woken from such thoughts by his name being called forward. A rider had been seen approaching, from the direction of the Fords. He spurred his horse forward and arrived to hear the man talking.

"… Things have gone awry since Théodred fell. We were yesterday driven over the river, and last night new forces arrived. All Isengard must be emptied and Saruman has given arms to the wild men of Dunland and they have come too. We were outnumbered and our shield-wall was broken. Erkenbrand has withdrawn towards Helm's Deep." The man looked agitated and haggard and Éomer recognized him as Ceorl.

"Please, where is Éomer? You must tell him there is no hope; that you should ride back to Edoras before the full might of Isengard reaches you."

Until now, the king and Éomer had been out of the man's view. Éomer still stayed a bit behind as Théoden rode forward to greet the man.

"Come, Ceorl! I am here. The last host of the Eorlingas has ridden forth and it will not return without battle."

Ceorl's face lit up as he recognized his king and he kneeled and offered his sword, notched as it was, to the king.

"Command me, lord, and pardon me! I thought…"

"You thought I still sat in Meduseld bent like an old tree. So it was when you rode out, but now a western wind has swayed the old boughs to a new life." Théoden turned to look at one of the guards.

"Get this man a fresh horse. Let us ride to aid Erkenbrand!"

During this exchange, Gandalf had been staring intently north and west. He returned to Théoden as the king was remounting.

"Ride to Helm's Deep. Do not go to the Fords of Isen nor tarry on the plains! I must carry out an errand and I'll have to leave you for a while. I will return." After these words he rode off, urging Shadowfax on. The horse leaped forward and took off so fast it soon could not be seen in the dusk.

So, the host took now a more southward route, riding towards the mountains and the peaks of Thrihyrne that marked the end of the White Mountains. Under the looming peaks was the only real stronghold in Rohan.

Helm's Deep was located at an end of the Deeping Coomb and up a narrow gorge. In ancient times, a fortress had been built there. The gorge was blocked by a thick, high walls of dark, unyielding stone, with a stone culvert barred with metal bars for the Deeping Stream to run through. Within the Dike was a stony valley-like clearing between the walls of the Hornburg and the outer perimeter. Upon a ledge on the right side stood the fortress hemmed in by another wall. It was called the Hornburg, and it housed a great horn from the times of Helm Hammerhand, the builder and ancient lord of the fortress.

The little river meandered from the culvert before running down the Coomb towards the valley now behind them; the rich and fertile lands of Westfold.

The host had not yet entered the Coomb when they heard the scouts blow their horns far in front. The dark was quickly falling and after a quick negotiation, Éomer, Legolas and Aragorn took the lead of some Riders and rode forward as vanguard. As they rode swiftly towards the keep they saw many small groups of orcs, but managed to catch or kill none in the falling dark.

The host was right after them in its entirety, and after reaching higher ground they saw torches behind them, over great leagues between the Fords and the opening of the Coomb. The Enemy was close behind.

It was full dark when they reached the first battlements. They were too few to stay and defend the Dike, so they moved on. Not long after they came to the Gate, and there met Hemling, the man Erkenbrand had put in charge of Helm's Deep and its defenses.

After they had entered – the King and Éomer in front now, as was proper – Hemling set out to describe the situation:

"As it stands, I have a thousand fit to fight on foot. Most are too old like myself, or too young like my grandson here." He patted a young boy on the shoulder. He couldn't have been much older than fifteen, a peach-fuzz beard upon his still-rosy cheeks.

"Have you provisions? We rode out prepared for a battle upon open field and brought little with us", asked Théoden.

"In the caves we have the folk of Westfold, the women, the children, the old and wounded. But also we have a great store of food there." While speaking, Hemling pointed towards the entrances to the caves, though they were not visible to where the men were.

"That is good, for they are burning the Vale as they come", Éomer commented. He had seen the fires before: burning the arable land bare was a favorite tactic of the orcs. The old man looked dismayed at the news, but nothing could be done.

While speaking with Hemling, they came to the causeway that crossed the river. It led to the gates of Hornburg and leading their horses on foot they entered.

When the men were assembled inside, Éomer already had his plan envisioned. He set most of the men out to Deeping Wall. It was twenty feet high and thick enough for four men to walk abreast, hemmed towards the valley by a high parapet. Three flights of stairs led down to the courtyard below, but the outer surface was smooth and cleverly fitted so that the top was jutting out ever so slightly. It would give them another small advantage, but if the glimpses he had caught from the enemy host were any clue of the true size, they were neck-deep in trouble anyway.

Time passed slowly, like it usually did while waiting. Éomer hated it. He hated it with all his passion. All he wanted was to get this over with, to reunite with his wife, to hold her.

To him, that was just a simple matter of cutting down this rabid horde of orcs, now climbing up the coomb in steady rhythm, their torches moving in single files.

Horses, shouts and a jumble of other noises erupted below him as the rear guard entered the keep. The Dike was overcome now.

By Éomer's estimate, it was now just past midnight and the vale beneath was eerily quiet. The air didn't move, and Éomer knew a storm was brewing. As if a signal had been given somewhere, a lighting rent the sky, revealing a seething mass of orcs beneath the wall.

A sinking feeling hit him: there was no way to defeat this mass of orcs. Would he never see his Aefwyn again?

Despair was a stranger to him, but now it gripped him with an iron fist. He had done wrong by his wife. He should never have had the fortune of love: he should have let Aefwyn live her life in peace without a worry. He would have rather live his life loving her from afar than to bring her the sorrow of widowhood she didn't deserve. Just the thought made his eyes sting with tears he couldn't afford to cry.

The horde below shot arrows towards the battlements, finding no marks but signaling that the battle had begun. The men waited, watching as more and more orcs poured towards the walls. But still, despite the arrows flying, everything was silent apart from the thunder.

Lightning flashed again and again, revealing the mass beneath them, ever growing.

Suddenly, trumpets sounded, and the orcs surged forward. Some rushed towards the wall, other sped up the causeway. Finally, a hail of arrows from the battlements met them. Orcs retreated, regrouped and charged again three times, always met with a deadly hail of arrows. The attackers did make steady progress, and soon up the causeway rams were being carried. Arrows felled some carriers, but others always took their place, and soon the rams were pounding at the gates.

As the next lightning flashed, Aragorn pulled Éomer with him. The flash had revealed to them the peril at the gate, and through a tiny postern door they went.

"This, Éomer, is the time we draw our sword together", said Aragorn before pulling free Andúril and charging into the fray. Éomer drew his sword as well, and together with a few more men he too entered the battle.

He slashed, parried, slashed again, killing orcs left and right. This was what he had been born to do, and alongside him Aragorn danced to the same tune. It was a tune of death, and soon the men and orcs holding the rams were retreating, running for their lives.

The victory was short-lived, however.

"Look, we cannot linger this side of the gates", Éomer called to Aragorn who had spent a moment to inspect the damage on the gate. The hinges were bent, boards were cracked; all in all, it was a wonder it was still standing.

Aragorn turned his gaze and saw what the Horse Lord had seen, a mass of orcs and men at the bottom of the causeway, ready to try again.

They took to running back towards the gate, but suddenly few orcs they had thought dead sprung up and Éomer felt himself fall as one of them got a hold of his heel. A fear of death spiked through him. Out of nowhere, a gruff voice boomed:

"Baruk Khazâd, Khazâd ai-mênu!" He could feel the air flowing past his hair as Gimli the Dwarf stood above him swinging his axe, finishing off the orcs.

Soon they were within again, panting but largely unharmed.

"Thank you, Gimli son of Glóin. But I did not notice you came with us to our little sortie!"

"I came to shake off sleep, but found the hill-men a bit too tall for my liking so I stayed and watched your swordplay for a while." The dwarf shrugged.

"I am in your debt." He gave a deep bow from his waist, but the dwarf shook it off.

"I think you'll have many a chance to repay it yet tonight. Yet I am content, for my axe has gotten back to its calling instead of hewing wood."

The battle was yet far from over, but the wind was pushing the clouds further south. A sinking moon lent it silvery light to the scene as they made their way back up to the battlements.

The orcs were devising another attack, and soon they came again with siege ladders to climb the walls. Many were thrown down, but despite the defenders' fierce attempts, some ladders remained long enough for orcs to reach the top.

From there it was only a matter of time before they were pushed back to the keep proper. Soon the doors of the keep were reduced to kindling, but the men had managed a barricade at the door, and the keep was yet unbreached.

"How long yet until dawn? When will this cursed night end?" Cried Aragorn, clearly bored of fighting in the dark. There was a slight lull in battle, and Legolas was sitting nearby whetting his sword and comparing his tallies with Gimli. Hemling therefore answered.

"Dawn is nigh, but I fear it will not much help us."

"What do you mean?"

"These are not ordinary orcs; Saruman has bred half-orcs and goblin-men who do not quail at the sun. Neither will the wild men." It was the truth, and Éomer felt his heart shrinking in his chest. Where was Gandalf?

Their discussion was cut short by blaring trumpets and a loud blast. The waters of the Deeping Stream were churning, seeking a way through the demolished culvert and the splashing orc-feet.

"They snuck up in the culvert!" shouted Aragorn and rushed down crying _Elendil! Elendil!_ as he went. Éomer took to follow as did many other men, and soon battle was again raging beneath the wall.

Éomer was soon separated from Aragorn as their attacked turned into a retreat, but Hemling and Gimli were with him, and many others who had gathered around him. They found a place easy to defend among the debris of the shattered wall, and held their ground for a long while.

Éomer had no idea if there was anyone alive at all apart from them, but he had no intention of giving up.

He was tired, exhausted to the bone and sore. His sword had not left his hand for hours, it seemed, and the blade glistened red and black in the little light each time he swung it. Yet he could not stop to rest, for that rest could soon turn out to be eternal. He had to keep on fighting, because each orc he killed before he himself fell would be one less to threaten Edoras, Éowyn and Aefwyn.

The orcs never seemed to stop. Gimli fought with ferocity, swinging his axe in a wild way, but ever with purpose. Hemling held his ground, but he was no longer a young man, and the strain was visible on him. He had stayed awake for well over a day and a night now – but so had they all. The few men he had gathered around him had thinned some, but off the twenty that had answered his first calls and the fifteen that had arrived later, perhaps ten or twelve still lived. Two more might have been wounded and not yet dead, but they would do no more fighting.

Éomer was himself becoming painfully aware of every little wound he had received. The drying blood – both his own and his enemies' – was starting to dry and stretched his skin at places very unpleasantly. None of the wounds was serious, and he knew he could go on for a while yet.

After what seemed like an eternity, the great horn sounded a blast. At first the sound caught Éomer by surprise, but he recovered quickly, sticking his sword in the gut of the nearest orc before pulling it out and swinging at another. The orcs seemed to be surprised as well, and using it for his advantage, Éomer quickly disposed of five more, all the while hearing Gimli count under his breath and cursing.

"… if this does not beat the blasted elf, nothing will… I swear by my beard…" Then again the mutter became inaudible, punctuated by Khuzdul and Éomer paid no more heed.

The horn blasted again and again, the echo ringing from the mountains, the sound swirling in the Coomb, strengthening and waning in a pattern.

Finally, the lone defenders left by the Rock heard the hooves of the final sortie of the Eorlingas, and when the king reached the bottom of the causeway rays of sun shone down onto the valley below. The king sat his horse silent, his face appalled, as every face behind him, and slowly Éomer turned to look.

Below, where the Coomb opened to the valley, a forest had appeared. The trees were old and gnarled, their green boughs rising high.

The orcs were dumbfounded and panicking. The king and his remaining host and the trees caused them to escape the Dike, but they dared not enter the forest. The only routes out of the valley now were an inaccessible rise on the east side or through the host now massing in the west side. Shouts erupted from the Men as they saw the figures atop the rise:

"Erkenbrand! Erkenbrand!" There with Erkenbrand was Shadowfax and astride him Gandalf the White.

Never in his life had Éomer seen a more welcome sight, and as the host rode on and drove the orcs into the forest he almost cried of relief.

* * *

><p>AN: Well well.

We'll stop by Aefwyn next time, I think. I haven't actually written much past 1k words mark yet. I said I published this because I had no reason not to. The only reason I was hesitant was because Ch. 21 is pretty much still a sketch. So while this was only 10 days after #19, don't expect 21 to be too fast in the making. I'm already having a bit of a struggle with it, mainly because Éowyn doesn't want to play nice :/


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Hey all! I know I said this shouldn't be too long. But then, I just couldn't quite nail the feeling of the chapter, and I'm still not sure its completely right. So, basically, I'm posting this now because I don't know quite what to do with it at this point.

Enjoy, and please forgive me my tardiness!

* * *

><p>Aefwyn knew from experience an outburst was near. Éowyn wasn't one to hold within her ire for extended periods of time, and this time she was more upset than ever. Her behavior had escalated to the point where even the servants sometimes watched her with wonder.<p>

They had been working very hard, both together and separately, to gather as much provisions as they had been able. All the time Éowyn had managed a somewhat civilized manner towards Aefwyn, no matter how forced her smiles had been at times. She had burst out a few times when something wasn't going along their plans, either scolding other parties involved harshly or retiring in tears.

The provisions had been mostly transported by the passing Riders on their way to answer the king's summons. She had been rather proud of this idea, for there had been no way they would have had enough time to move everything needed otherwise. Provisions had been left behind also for the king returning – as they hoped – and the army to feast and rest. The men were to set camp at Dunharrow, seeing they could by no means reach Helm's Deep fast enough to be of aid.

It was now the sixth of March and they had just arrived at Dunharrow themselves. Éowyn had been quiet and secretive, and Aefwyn hadn't been able to speak to her about anything else than the food served or the weather for the past three days. There wasn't much to be said from either, which meant most of their time was spent in sullen silence. It was in her opinion an improvement from the outburst Edoras had had to withstand, and even Éowyn herself seemed more like herself again.

Somehow the camp atop the mountain had started to take form. Tents were already erect for the king and his guests atop the cliff, and a sea of tents littered the foot. The view was spectacular, unless you were to look towards the mountains. There was a shadowed path no sunlight reached, reaching ever deeper to the mountain. Just looking at it gave Aefwyn goose pumps and sent a shiver down her spine. She stayed far from it, as its nearness made even the child restless.

Aefwyn turned away from the edge of the cliff and set towards Éowyn's tent. It was close to the one she had picked for Éomer and herself, but still managed to look like it stood alone. She rapped at the support pole holding up the flap and entered. Éowyn was sitting on her cot, seemingly deep in thought.

"They should be arriving soon. The messenger…"

"I know what the messenger said."

"You should not hold a grudge. You know why we were left behind: there's no shame in it. Who else would have seen this done?"

"You could have done it! I am a Shieldmaiden, but I am not allowed to defend my home." Éowyn's eye glittered with tears, and Aefwyn's heart reached out for her.

"I could have, perhaps, were I not six months along." Her hands wandered over her belly, a pattern familiar and new each time.

"And now we are to be left behind again." Éowyn's voice cracked, but it was filled with sullen bitterness.

"Such is the part of a woman, Éowyn. I am not asking you to accept it, but to try to understand. Éomer and Théoden wish to keep you safe." She didn't add herself to the list, for that would only have fuelled the younger woman along.

"I have been kept safe my whole life, and I am sick of it. I cannot take a moment longer, Aefwyn. It is easy for you to accept, when you have never wielded a blade. You like to be tethered to a house, to live coddled within strong walls. They get to go free where ever their hearts please as far as a good horse can carry them. Have you never once envied Éomer his freedom?" Éowyn trembled, her tears now falling, but of rage, not of sadness.

"I do not envy it of him, for the price is high. It is a freedom he rather didn't have, Éowyn. To ride to war is to know some may not return. Éomer hides it well, but it still pains him." She sat, placing her hand on the younger woman's arm. Éowyn looked at her, a rainbow of emotions in her stare.

"He is my brother. Do you think I know not what moves him?"

"He is my husband, and I hold his heart. But you do know him, Éowyn. He loves you. He wishes you safe." She scoffed, unmoved by Aefwyn's pleading tone and sad eyes.

Éowyn rose and took a few quick paces. She stood still then, and looked back at Aefwyn.

"I am unconvinced. But enough of this now, come." Her face was still and emotionless, her eyes deep and unreadable. Then she turned again and left the tent.

Aefwyn sighed, again. She knew better than to argue with the children of Éomund. Nothing came of it.

She rose slowly and went after the younger woman.

On her way to find Éowyn, a young soldier stopped her.

"My lady, there are Riders coming up."

"Thank you for letting me know." The man went on his way. Turning her head back the way she had been headed, Aefwyn spotted Éowyn by one of the many fires.

Seeing her about to start the preparation of dinner she hurried to intervene. Despite knowing her ways through Meduseld, Éowyn had never learned to cook all that well. Odwyn would never have allowed a lady of Éowyn's position to dirty her hands. It would also have given Éowyn priceless insight of how the Head maid liked to lead her flock, Aefwyn thought; her usual fatalist view replaced by an unfamiliar bitterness for once.

"I can take that over. A guard just told me Riders are coming up. Would you not go welcome them?" Éowyn considered for a moment and got up.

"I'll go." Without anything further she went, and left Aefwyn with the cooking materials. Aefwyn had quickly whisked together a stew of the root vegetables, onions and dried meat at hand when Éowyn returned.

"They were messengers." Then her face broke into a wide smile.

"They will be here soon." Everything about her seemed suddenly refreshed, but Aefwyn could sense her black mood still present, now under the surface, better hidden. She smiled, and got up.

"I'll be back right away." She made her way towards the edge of the cliff and finished with her business. The child was comfortably resting atop her bladder – comfortable for the child, not her – seemingly asleep after a fierce bout of kicking.

Her eyes strayed towards the northwest. She could make out the fiery speckles of the campfires below, and further out in the foothills. Next to one of those fires could be her husband.

A wind was picking up from the east, a chilly wind that carried with it a stench, something foul and rotting. She knew he had to go again, to Gondor. Even further away from her this time, and it was all too likely he would never return.

It was only a matter of time before she would hear the news, before her heart would die forever. The thought filled her with a deep sadness. Without Éomer, she was nothing. Her children needed her, and for them she would remain as she was, but ever so hollow inside.

Now Éomer would return, however. It was not yet for her to mourn, but to shield him with her hope. She would have to sooth the pain of his heart over the men he had lost in the field. She would have to strengthen him for what was to come with all her being. If he felt no hope, she must give it to him.

With her resolve thus reinforced, she returned to Éowyn.

They ate, in silence, and afterwards Aefwyn retired to her tent. She disrobed, lay down and let sleep take her.

oOo

Dawn had come an hour earlier when Aefwyn moved aside the tent flap and let the brisk spring morning wash over her being.

The weather was bright and clear, only wisps of the clouds of the previous evening now vanishing to the horizon. Spring was coming to the land, but the temperature was still freezing until sun rose enough to warm the land and thaw the frost of night.

The camp was waking below her as she made her way to the edge, near to where the causeway began its descent. She saw men bustling about, seeing to the final repairs of their gear and restocking their rations from the wild surrounding the foot of the mountain. Indeed, even from her high vantage she could spot the racks for drying meat being put to use by the men with desire to hunt. The racks were surrounded by the smoky haze from the fires nearby, guarded by a few men. The smoke would keep out whatever early insects might be about, but also prepare and dry the meat faster.

The army would clean out the surrounding landscape of wildlife, would it be allowed to rest there too long, but the muster was almost seen to and the king was about to arrive. Until he did and bid the army to move, they would be a huge drain to the surrounding vegetation and beast roaming there. Indeed, much of the stores of Edoras had been emptied and brought here to avoid such, but the stores were still in constant need of refilling: as more men arrived, so too increased the mouths to be fed.

Feeling more alert and less groggy from sleep, Aefwyn set about her daily tasks. She prepared breakfast for herself and Éowyn, of course more than they could eat so that she could offer food for any passing by. Most of the men knew how to cook well enough, but some were much less experienced to riding with an éored and were not as prepared to feed themselves. Many of the men were quite green, to Aefwyn's estimate, having spent their lives farming rather than wielding a sword. All of them had, at some point, served the king in his éoreds, but to some that had been a good long while ago. The muster was their duty, and they had come.

Fewer men were there than was expected, however. The long years of the king's illness had taken their toll on the land, and many would not or could not come. Aefwyn could not judge them: orcs were still about, though much sparser surely after all this fighting. The people could not yet trust so much in the safety of their homes to ride so far, likely never to return. They thought of their families, and Aefwyn could not fault them for it. She knew her own heart would have no peace before Éomer was again with her.

Her tasks kept her occupied throughout the day. As dusk was again setting, she heard shouted greetings from below and sure enough soon riders were approaching by the causeway. Aefwyn hastened towards where Éowyn was already waiting, having also heard the cries.

It was not the King, however, who appeared. It was the Dúnadan, Aragorn, and his companions. Legolas of Mirkwood was riding further back with two other elven lords, Gimli son of Glóin with him. But the rest of the men were strangers, thirty or so of them. They were dressed in the same manner as the Ranger, browns, greens, dark colors in general. Aefwyn surmised they must be of Aragorn's people, Dúnedain.

Éowyn stepped forward to greet them, but seemed dismayed when hearing Aragorn was to depart the next morning. Even Aefwyn was upset when he announced his intention to go to the Paths of the Dead.

"My lord, that way you will find naught but your end and the end of your companions!" She exclaimed.

"Aye, they do not suffer living to pass." Said Éowyn. Her face had blanched, her eyes were wide.

"They will suffer me. Or if they do not it was still the only road for me to take."

"But it is madness. Why not stay and ride to war with my uncle and brother, and let our hope shine all that brighter? Your men seem of skill and renown."

"Not madness, my lady. But if my companions would rather ride with the Rohirrim, I will take the Path alone. It is my road to take." After that they spoke no more of serious matters, but went and ate.

After dining, the company went on to rest. Aefwyn had excused herself a moment earlier than Aragorn, who was now heading towards the tent he shared with Legolas and Gimli. She saw Éowyn approaching the lord, and heard her words from where she stood.

"My lord, why must you take this deadly road?"

"Because I must. And for my part, it is the only I can do to oppose Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril Éowyn. Were I to walk where my heart desires, I would be in the fair valley of Rivendell."

For a moment Éowyn was silent and stared at the lord, pleading. Then she took his arm and spoke urgently, but not quietly enough for Aefwyn not to hear.

"Please take me with you then, my lord. I am weary of skulking and wish to see battle and glory."

"Your duty is to your people." Aragorn's voice was not unkind, but his countenance was stern. Aefwyn could not bear to see the desolate look on Éowyn's face, and took to her tent. It was no longer a discussion for her ears, no matter how she should have acted as a chaperone for Éowyn.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you very much for all those who have followed, favorited and/or reviewed this story! Your support is appreciated so much and keeps me going :D Knowing you want to hear the end of the story (hopefully ;P ) keeps me wanting to write it ^^


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Hello all!

I'm so very sorry of my long absence. I've been diagnosed with anxiety and depression lately, though I've been suffering of both for a longer while. I've not wanted to tarnish this story with my own demons, because at heart, this is after all a love story. I've been writing some darker stuff I might some day publish somewhere (and I'll tell you if and when I do, if you want to read it). I can't describe how much my conscience has been tormenting me for leaving this hanging for so long... but I hope you believe me when I say I'm truly sorry for it taking so long.

Borys68: First off, thank you for your review. I don't think I ever wrote that down anywhere, no. Personally I've been to the opinion that Éomer has taken her to visit there, but I realize it's not explicitly stated in the story thus far. Not easy finding a good spot to take it up at this point :P

* * *

><p>After Aragorn had finished speaking with Éowyn, an arduous task of trying to dissuade the woman of something he knew she could not do, he cast a final glance towards the path into the mountain. It had not been easy, but at last they had parted. Her veiled confession of love had stunned him a bit, enough for him not to have time to form a response before she was gone. He had seen Aefwyn standing by her tent as well, but she had gone within a long while before Éowyn's confession, which was a relief.<p>

At length, the ranger sat by a fire and lit his pipe, staring off into space. He mulled over conversations he'd had, people he'd met, and wondered how many of them would face their deaths in days to come. In his peripheral vision he saw lady Aefwyn leaving her tent, heading off to where ditches had been dug. Her gait had spring of youth to it, but at the same time the bit waddling step of a woman well into her pregnancy.

Aragorn had learned that the simply dressed woman he had at first glance taken to a servant was lord Éomer's wife. His beloved, most dear lady wife, the mother of his children, of whom Aragorn had heard a good bit on the road with the younger man. Indeed, it had been hard for Éomer to stay behind with Théoden King and not ride ahead with him, so eager had the newly forged crown prince been to see his wife. But out of duty he had stayed.

The dismay on Éomer's face had been plain, no matter hard he had tried to hide it, and the king too had seen it. The king had brought it up in their conversation one evening, after all others had retired.

"_You know, I first doubted the girl had a lady in her at all. I thought her a maid of low birth and low manners, but in both I was mistaken. Her mother was of low birth, but she had been in a high station among the family she served in, both families; the other was that of Théodwyn, my sister. Her father, however, was a man I believe you knew the father of. He was in love with Aefwyn's mother, so much that her flight turned him of sense. _

_She has grace, Aragorn. Not a grace of a queen, by far, to a house like Gondor's, but to Edoras and Rohan she will make a fine queen. And the people will love her for she was one of them. You too must in your kinghood remember to know to admit when you're wrong. But always take defeat with grace, and hide your displeasure." _

Aragorn hadn't bothered to remind Théoden that he was far senior to the aged king. Théoden had been king for far longer than he, however, and Aragorn could understand well how the importance of keeping the posture of being always in charge was important. If a king seemed weak, he was soon threatened. Théoden had been brought to ill health once for easy trust, and there was wariness to him now, when he looked at people he knew not well.

_The king had continued after a moment's pause, during which his eyes had wandered towards his nephew's sleeping form by a nearby fire._

"_I did not understand that for that young man to make a great king he must have a force by him to balance his temper. I did not see in her the makings to balance the boy. But I was mistaken, and then blinded for so long. After Gandalf opened my eyes again, I have seen her with him, and I see he is now a man very different from the boy he was when my mind was overthrown." The king looked at Aragorn, smiling. _

"_I have admitted defeat, and I surely made it gracious. He is now my heir; there is none else for me to consider. She will be his queen, as she has been his wife – the other day I learned she has managed Aldburg's finances admirably. Perhaps she could make the realm work easier as well? – and we already have a flock of little princes and princesses at the nursery of Aldburg's Hall. What more could an old king wish?" _

Aragorn had read between the lines: the king wished he could have seen his own son have such a family. But he had been no less pleased of his nephew's fortune. After all, he had been the only parent to his niece and nephew after their parents had died.

Aragorn put out his pipe and shook of the ashes before tucking it away.

At length the _dunadan_ rose, patting the dust off. He then went in his tent to sleep for a while before he took to the Paths and to his destiny.

oOo

The returning force that had ridden to Isengard had taken a few days to visit Edoras on their way to Dunharrow. Éomer had hated every moment of it, knowing his wife was sitting upon an ancient perch of stone waiting to see him as eagerly as he wanted to see her. The mood overall had however been victorius if not a bit gloomy as everyone knew the war was approaching.

After a while, they had left Edoras to go to Dunharrow, gathering the last possible men with them. It had produced a sizable addition to a well-sized, army, they had surmised. They were soon proven mistaken. There were far fewer men than expected, and the king's wide smile soured a bit. Éomer, who had not bothered much with a smile to begin with, frowned.

They had crossed a small ford and met the guard, and subsequently the whole camp had been alerted to their arrival. Torches were nowhere to be seen, however, and fires burned low. And explanation was soon offered by the man Dúnhere, who resided near Dunharrow, in Harrowdale. He told of the winged shadow, and of Gandalf who had ridden by days earlier, and Gandalf's advice to keep fires low.

Éomer glanced over at Merry at the mention of Gandalf. The wizard had taken the other Halfling with him to Gondor, and Merry had stayed behind with them. The separation had at first visibly shaken Merry, but he was already starting to be back at his good cheer, slightly muted without his friend as he was.

At end, the King's company was on the foot of the road up. Many men had gathered to welcome their king, and before ascending, Théoden wished to exchange words with some of them. He looked less than pleased when he rejoined Éomer by the horses and they remounted before starting onwards.

"There are less men than what I hoped for", Théoden muttered after the first turn when they were out of earshot from below.

"The years have been hard. So many villages have been raided, I'm surprised this many have had the courage to come." Éomer left out that the raiding wouldn't have been half as bad if he had been allowed to answer in kind. Because of Gríma he had not been allowed to go out as often and with as great a force as he had hoped for.

After they had ascended, they met Éowyn, who looked stern, sad and resolute at the same time, if such was possible, to Éomer's eyes. She greeted them warmly, her smile a bit dimmer than he was accustomed to.

"Welcome, Lord of the Mark! My heart is glad at your returning." She smiled, a wide, glad smile, but there was a tension in her shoulders and a slight redness around her eyes Éomer picked up on instantly.

"How have you been, Éowyn?" The king asked.

"All is was a weary road for the people to take, but all is prepared as you wished."

"Come, tents have been prepared for you and a meal is waiting."

"Has lord Aragorn arrived then? Is he still here?" Éomer asked, but Éowyn shook her head

"Lord Aragorn told us of your approach, but alas, he has already left." There was a stiffness in Éowyn's posture as she spoke the words, and Éomer for a while wondered what had happened. He made a mental note to ask Aefwyn. Éowyn turned to look towards the mountains.

"Whither did he go?" Éomer continued, intrigued.

"I do not know. He came at night and left yestermorn. He is gone."

"You are grieved, niece. What has happened? Did he speak of that road?" The king pointed towards the Paths.

"Yes lord. He rode to the shadow from which none have returned. He is gone."

"Truly, he has passed from us then. Hope dwindles for us all." Éomer sighed and started to follow Éowyn as she turned to lead them.

They went to the King's tent, a colossal structure of green cloth erected in full view of the entire area. Before it was a fire, and by that fire on a low cushion sat his wife, very pregnant and beautiful. She took to rise in greeting, but Théoden waved her to sit back down.

"No need to rise for me, we are family. What is this delicacy you have cooking, the scent is marvelous." Aefwyn smiled and handed a bowl to the king who had seated himself.

"Just a simple broth, I'm afraid. Harrowdale has been emptied of wildlife by this time, but Dúnhere was kind enough to procure me a hare." The king turned to his meal with gusto, as their breakfast had been sparse in their haste to depart. Éomer as well took his bowl and took to eat, glancing at his wife. Aefwyn smiled at him and cocked her brow questioningly, and he nodded. They'd speak when he was done.

At this, his wife took her leave and went to his tent. It was similar to the king's tent and located nearby, but obviously much smaller. It was intended to be carried with an army on the march, unlike the king's large tent which was reserved for more ceremonial travel. He had had the tent made when he had joined an éored, but as the men on patrol usually slept on the ground in their cloaks and bedrolls, it had not been used all that often and the fabric was still bright green.

Éomer finished his meal in silence, interjecting comments to the discussion of other men. Éowyn was nowhere to be seen, just as expected: she had been upset.

After eating, he excused himself, earning quite a few lewd looks from the other men by the fire. Gamling gave him a sly wink from where he sat. Éomer chose to ignore them. It was not like he was going to ravage his wife just because he hadn't seen her for a few days. Unless, of course, that was what Aefwyn wished of him, in which case he would be more than happy to oblige.

Her pushed aside the flap to his tent and went inside. Aefwyn was sitting on one of the folding chairs set by his desk. She was knitting, her expression serene. The whole sight was so thoroughly maternal, her growing belly protruding from her mid, her hands moving in harmony with a small piece of clothing taking form in her grasp.

"I've missed you", he breathed and walked to her. He kneeled to the ground and they hugged, firmly as if fearing to let the other go.

"I've missed you too. Every day I waited for your arrival…" Her voice was equally breathy, and her hands, the other still grasping her work, wandered up and down his broad back.

After a while he leaned back and looked at her again. She had a small contented smile on her lips, but a worry still resided in her eyes.

"What's with Éowyn?" He almost blurted the words, and her smile widened even as the shadows in her eyes deepened. Once again, their minds had worked in unison.

"She wishes so much to go with you. She feels her best years are falling away, that her desire and will and talent to help are all overlooked. I have tried telling her how much she will be needed with us, how I'll be so dependent of her in a few months… But she will not listen. She smiles, and nods, but there's always steel in her eyes." Aefwyn looked at him, so earnest in her worry and fear Éomer could only do one thing. He leaned in closer and kissed his wife firmly. For another short eternity they sat entwined, he on the floor and she on the low stool, but before their embrace could grow into passion instead of comfort he leaned back again.

"Don't worry, my love. I will speak with her."

"That is exactly what I'm worried about, Éomer." Her voice was dry and her eyebrow was quirked.

"You will tell her she is to stay in Edoras, that war is not a place for her. With your fire you'll only ignite her as well, and she'll fight you out of spite."

"I'll speak with her differently then. Don't you think I can be sensible and soft-spoken if I wish, wife?" He took on a mock scowl.

"Oh, certainly, but I've never heard that tone used with Éowyn." He took her hand and squeezed.

"Could I possibly get an ounce of trust?"

"You have all my trust, my love, but you have no gift with words, and every time you try to make your sister see reason as you put it, you only create an argument." Aefwyn smiled and made to rise.

"Now, I believe, the king is waiting for you to make his council. Let us go." He gave up on the conversation, knowing that his wife was, once again, correct in her analysis. He did not know how to speak to Éowyn of this, in truth, and he knew not how to make his sister believe him.

* * *

><p>AN: now I know this is a bit short, but I just couldn't make you wait longer for this. I hope you forgive me now that this is up ;P

I know I said earlier I'd try and finish this soon, but right after that my muse saw right through me and decided to take a long vacation. Now that I hopefully have my depression and anxiety attacks a bit better under control, I hope I'll be able to write a bit faster again. Perhaps my muse will come back instead of sending me postcards xD


	23. Chapter 23

A/N:Hello again! Please don't be mad at me for this taking so long. I'll explain better after the story so you won't lynch me right away...

Aand a Special thank you to my guest reviewer and to Borys68 (And no, I haven't revisited the story, but if I ever feel the need, who knows?)!

* * *

><p>The conversation in the tent was cut short by a voice from outside. Then the captain of the guard thrust aside the cloth covering the exit.<p>

"A messenger has arrived from Gondor, my King, m'lords." He bowed shortly, and at Théoden's beckoning, let the messenger enter the tent, closing the flap behind him.

He was tall, and dressed in gleaming mail from head to toe, the deep green curtain of his cloak trailing behind him into the tent. In his hand he held an object that Aefwyn did not at first recognize. But when the man kneeled in front of Théoden and presented him with the Red Arrow, its tip gleaming blood red in the firelight, she felt blood draining from her face.

"Hail Théoden, King of Rohan, Friend of Gondor!" He greeted, before continuing:

"I am Hirgon, messenger of Steward Denethor, who bring you this token of war. Long have Gondor and Rohan been allies, and now Gondor calls for your aid, lest it fall." Theóden took the offered item gingerly, clearly not wanting to touch the item, knowing the consequences. But take it he must and so he did.

"The Red Arrow! Never have I seen one in my lifetime. Has it really come to that? And what does Steward Denethor reckon my strength and speed to be?" Hirgon bowed low, answering.

"That you know best, King Theóden, but Lord Denethor urges you to make haste, for the city is sure to fall under siege soon and he would rather have you within than without."

"But we are a people who fight upon the open grassland. And that too is where most of my folk live, scattered. Indeed, doesn't Lord Denethor know more than he says with this message? Do you not see us prepared to ride, ready? Gandalf the Grey has been among us and even now we muster for war in the East."

"That I do not know, my Lord. From where my Lord Denethor knows these things is not known to me. But here I am, as he sent, and alike him, ask you to remember old oaths and old friendship. It is reported many kings have ridden out from the East to aid Mordor. From the North of Dagorlad we hear rumor of skirmish and war. In the South, the Haradrim are moving, and fear has fallen upon the coastlands. Will you not help us, for if Minas Tirith is to fall, Rohan will be next!"

Théoden sat quiet for the barest moment before responding to the messenger's plea.

"Dark tidings, yet not all unguessed. You tell Denethor that, even if Rohan was not itself in peril, we would still ride to your aid. But Saruman and his witchcraft has weakened us, and I will not leave my strongholds unguarded. Tell Denethor I will have six thousands spears with me to ride on the morrow. Say also this: in this hour, the King of Rohan himself will ride down to Gondor, though it may be he will not ride back. It is a long road: man and beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it may be of tomorrow morn until you hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the North."

"A week! After that, you are likely to find only smoldering ruin. But at least you may stop the Orcs and Swarthy men from completely despoiling the White Tower!" Hirgon said, despairing. Aefwyn let her eyebrow shoot up at that. The man was already without hope.

"The that is what we shall do. But, now I've fresh rode in from battle myself and should rest, if we are to ride on the morrow. Rest now, and depart with your news on the morrow." Théoden dismissed them, with a few more words of encouragement to Hirgon.

oOo

Éomer led Aefwyn further away from the tents instead of their own dwelling after they had left the king's tent.

"I wished to speak to you once more before we go and sleep." Aefwyn smiled, looking up at his worried visage.

"Do not bid me farewells yet, husband, and speak no word of goodbye. Otherwise I might be persuaded to ride with you just to make sure you will not get yourself killed."

"Do not jest now, Aefwyn. It is a very real and true possibility I will not return. If that happens, I want you to take our children and run as far as you can go and never look back. I want you to go west, to the shores of the Sea, and I want you to go to Círdan the Shipwright. If it is so that the Dark Lord will defeat us, he must let you go to the West, he must."

"And what makes you think I would go, you foolish oaf? You are not going to die on me." She placed her palms on his cheeks, surprised to find moisture there. She hadn't seen him cry.

"There's still hope. Lord Aragorn went down the Paths, and to me he doesn't seem like a man who'd just walk there to die. It is always coldest the moment before the sun rises, Éomer. So cold, now, you'd think there is no more sun. But then the sun does rise." They were standing so close to each other there was no air between them, and Aefwyn felt Éomer trying to steady his uneven breath. His heart was beating steady and strong, reverberating through her.

"Aye, my lady, if you say so; it must be so." There was more than a hint of humor in his voice, his amusement more obvious in the delicious low thrum his laughter sent through her body.

"Don't mock me. I'm very serious. The wizard seemed nervous but not without hope; and the Lord Aragorn would not go down a road without an ending. Thus, we too must trust whatever hope we have left."

"I wouldn't mock you." He hugged her tighter, lifting her off the ground, ever minding her belly.

"But I do not doubt the sun rising, I doubt us living to see it." His voice was muffled by her hair, into which he had dug his face in.

Aefwyn had no answer for him. Her elongated silence made him put her down and peer deeply into her eyes in the twilight.

"I don't want you to despair. I want you to prepare, to whatever outcome."

"If that is your command, I shall obey." There was steel under her voice, giving Éomer the distinct impression that if he and all Rohirrim should perish, Aefwyn would not leave Edoras right away no matter her promise. He could not fault her at that, because he knew he wouldn't want to live long without her either. It was for their children he had to make her promise.

He had no doubt, however, that when faced with the reality of her widowhood she would turn and run, for then she would be for her children. His wife was trying to fill him with hope she hardly felt herself.

That night, in their tent, their bodies entwined for what might have been the last time, ever. Their love was not rushed, for they knew they had the night.

oOo

Come morning, Aefwyn woke, alone. Éomer was undoubtedly preparing somewhere outside the tent. She dressed, feeling the familiar aches of muscles that at times got much too little practice. And then again, should they receive more practice she would have mothered eight instead of four. The thought made her chuckle as she smoothed her dress over her stomach.

Sighing, now fully dressed, Aefwyn pushed past the tent flap. Outside the morning was as cool and crisp as the last as she quickly made her way to the latrines.

After her morning routines she was determined to find her husband. She had very little time, and she wanted no distractions. Having searched a good while, she finally came across her husband by one of the outer fires. He was enjoying a breakfast with his closest men, undoubtedly honing their strategy as an éored.

They had hardly exchanged a private word when all were ordered to prepare for hasty departure. Éomer kissed her brow a final time, assuring her there was no force in Mordor to stop him from returning, unless perhaps the Eye himself.

"You see my lord, now you have the hope, and I feel none."

"Don't worry, Aefwyn. You told me not to last night, and you made me believe it. Please now, for me, you believe yourself too?" He smiled at her, and wiped away a tear from her cheek. Then her mounted his horse, and rode to Théoden.

Tears in her eyes, Aefwyn watched Éomer and Théoden and many others riding down the causeway. She stood still a long while after they had passed from the narrow valley, a horde of green-cloaked men on their horses, spearheads pointing towards the black clouds.

oOo

Éomer recollected his life, riding forth at the head of the column. It seemed like a series of turns that all led to here: his father's death had given him the determination for revenge he had needed for long years trying to keep his home safe.

And had he not had enough reason already; he had been given Aefwyn, and their children.

With a frown he conceded that even though he dearly loved his children, he must have seemed a distastefully distant father to them. Of all the years of his marriage, most had been spent on patrolling.

It left a sour taste in his mouth, but at the same time his mind was filled with other images. Of his laughing wife, of his sister, her somber countenance softened into a smile. And he remembered his children, took time to look at their faces in his mind's eye.

Morwen, their eldest, was now a headstrong girl of seven, truly taking after her great grandmother in her nature. She had taken keen interest in her studies, but only to the subjects she found to her liking, which included very few of what her teachers deemed important. She loved riding – Éomer would have been horrified if she'd not – and went to see her filly every day, as far as Éomer knew. The foal had been born during the last winter storm, and had been very weak for the first weeks, because of its slightly untimely birth. The mare had never foaled before, but luckily had warmed up to the little filly soon enough, despite showing some doubt at first.

They had decided to promise the foal as Morwen's first own horse, should it survive, and the girl took delight when it finally started growing in earnest. Éomer assumed the situation hadn't changed, despite the fact that he had not seen his daughter in what seemed like ages. Béma, the children were probably still blissfully unaware of their favorite "uncle's" death. All of their children had loved Théodred, and the thought of telling them made his gut clench.

Éomund would be awaiting the last of the cold weathers to pass to get out. He was five, and just starting to take lessons in earnest from assorted tutors. The boy took strongly after his father with green-and-brown eyes and a golden hair, but had not yet his father's temper. Éomer thought it mostly a good thing, for Morwen truly had temper enough for both. And, Éomund had been given a childhood yet much warmer than what had turned him into the man he was. Éomund had both of his parents and so no reason to fill his heart with lead.

He fended off the nagging thought which reminded him that he was now riding out most likely never to return. He was leaving his son half-orphaned with each passing mile, just like he had been when his father had not returned.

Éohild the Quiet, now 3, was still the calmest child he had ever witnessed. Her hair had turned pale golden, nearly white, and her eyes were a very light blue tinged with green at the edges. She made very little fuss about herself, and even when she was behaving badly her mischief was subtle. Indeed, Éomer was certain he would most have to worry about Éohild when his children reached their teens.

She had had none of the willfulness of her elder siblings even when she finally showed interest on doing things for herself. One day, she had calmly taken the spoon from her nurses offering hand, and started eating on her own. The nurse, who had been fully prepared to feed the little girl, had gaped at her and then turned to face similarly surprised parents. Morwen had been one to throw temper tantrums if someone tried to help her when she experimented, Éomund had exclaimed his will adamantly and loudly, but Éohild just took control of the situation, usually without a word.

She did speak, but only when she wanted something she couldn't get herself. Her speech had seemed to come in late, but when it did she was easy to understand; unlike her more vocal elder sister, who sometimes had in her excitement been incomprehensible.

He had been made Marshal the following year after Éohild's birth. It had been a difficult year, for he had wanted to be at home, but was needed elsewhere. After that times had not eased, and indeed had only grown worse. Even now, with Théoden back at his former health, times were perilous enough to warrant a suicide mission such as riding to Minas Tirith to face all the strength of the Eye.

And now things were just getting more complicated. Aefwyn was yet again with child, and though as always he already loved the child he rued its timing. If ever Aefwyn would need her mind and hands clear, she would need them now, and in a few weeks she would have both filled with a new baby.

The older children were in Aldburg, but Éomer was sure that now that Aefwyn would go to Edoras to stay for a longer while she would have her children brought to her. It was better that way, for Edoras was better positioned and if need be for her to leave in haste, Aldburg was in the wrong direction altogether.

Éomer ached to have one more look of his children. If only for a while he could gaze upon them, but alas!

He steeled his resolve and turned his eyes forward. Ahead, the grassy hills rolled over and over for many long miles, ever leading downwards towards the vale of Anduin. Somewhere there laid Minas Tirith and Pelennor Fields, and most likely his end.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah. So, like I told you last time, I was pretty stressed out and depressed earlier this year, and after my leave (the time I posted the previous chapter) I was feeling better because I had it out in the open. The I get back to work, and even though my boss' boss is sympathetic etc. etc. nothing really changes, as I knew nothing would. I had such a lousy time I just couldn't focus on putting what I wanted onto 'paper', and then I felt worse because I thought I've let you down, and that I'm a lazy bum (because honestly I am - my apartment looks like shit and I guess I do too xD) and that I knew I can't finish a goddamn thing I start.

Then it came to me that if I quit doing this because I quit everything else I started, although I absolutely hate it when someone else does that to something I like, I'm no better than the people I hate. God, I hate it when a good fic just stops, and I hate it when a great fic stops (I'm not saying mine is great, btw). I almost hate the writer as much as I love them for writing that far.

So, I got this finished and polished just now, not ten minutes ago. Hope you can forgive me, and my sincerest thank yous to everyone reading.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: So, since I felt so bad about giving you absolutely nothing for months on end, here's the next chapter. Totally AU, since there's about nada about people that were in Edoras during the battle of Pelennor - the home front, if you will.

Go on :)

* * *

><p>The Rohirrim that had stayed behind at Dunharrow after the host had left had slowly made its way back to Edoras. Aefwyn was exhausted, and though she had many times wondered where Éowyn had wandered off to, she had so many other things to worry about she never actually got to searching for the younger woman.<p>

After they arrived to Meduseld, she was so tired all she could do was dismiss her servant girl – she had been assigned to her by Éowyn, Marigold was her name – and fall to bed, not caring to undress first.

She slept for several hours, but woke in the wee hours of the morning for hunger. Her child was growing, and she oft urged for foods she couldn't possibly have. The cooks indulged her for trying to come up with similar flavors, and for that she was grateful. At Dunharrow she had been too anxious for Éomer to worry of her cravings, but now that she knew she could only wait they hit with renewed force.

Aefwyn made her way to the kitchen, empty because of the hour. She saw some bread from yester eve on one table and cut herself three good slices. Off one of the cool storage rooms she fetched some well-salted butter and from another a few slices of cured ham. Satisfied with her findings she sat to the table to eat.

Peacefulness she had always felt in the lonely hours of the morning washed over her. In her mind's eye, she was with her husband, and like in a reverie she could see the host riding across the plain, even in the dark morning shadowed by the unnatural clouds. She could see her lord husband at the head of the column, at his – Théodred's – place by the king's side.

That was when the thought hit her. Where had Éowyn been all of yesterday?

She could have well imagined the stubborn daughter of Éomund there, by her brother's side, should he allow such. And he hadn't. But Éowyn had returned, hadn't she? She had just been upset with Aefwyn, and had made herself scarce, surely?

Taking the last slice, half-eaten, with her, she rushed – waddled – through the hall to Éowyn's door. It was closed, but not latched from the inside, as she discovered when she moved to open it. Éowyn hadn't slept with her door unlatched since Gríma had set his eyes on her, years ago. _So Éowyn isn't asleep_, she thought.

She moved inside, surprised to find the room dark and empty.

_Béma bless her, she did it. _

Aefwyn took support from the doorframe, her knees suddenly feeling rather shaky. _Éowyn's gone_.

She turned on her heels, not bothering to close the door behind her as she went back to her chambers. After closing the door, she undressed from her travel gown, hanging it over the back of a chair for the maid. Aefwyn had not believed that Éowyn would truly set her mind to go, and she had been mistaken. She had feared Éowyn might have gone with Aragorn, but the ranger had put an end to that fear by leaving in the night.

She went back to bed, not intending to sleep, but she fell asleep almost instantly.

It was well beyond daybreak that she awoke again. The baby was moving, it too was now awake.

She was rifling through the closet, trying to figure out which of the dresses she had in Edoras would be large enough to fit her belly, when her maid knocked and entered. The girl had a tray of food with her, and Aefwyn abandoned her search to eat.

While she ate, the girl took away her travel-stained dress and returned with a fresh jug of water for the wash stand. All of these chores had once been hers to perform, and she watched the girl with half-lidded eyes while she drank her herbal tea. Marigold was fourteen, a daughter of one of the elder maids, now old enough for more responsible tasks. Aefwyn wasn't quite sure whose daughter she was, but most maids came from a family where a dozen generations of women had served in Meduseld. If the king inherited his throne, so had many a maid inherited a dusting cloth.

Marigold braided her hair after she had eaten, and had found a dress she had worn during one of her earlier pregnancies. It wasn't quite up to fashion standard of that day, but she wasn't prepared to wait for her travel gown to be washed. There were things she needed to do.

She spent the day getting things back on track. The household staff would have much more free time on her hands, as the city was almost empty. The women, children and elderly remained, but the year had been hard and Edoras' population had dwindled. Especially now that Saruman had been defeated, many women had decided to journey back to their homes in outer parts of the realm. Those who still had family there were more eager to leave, but sometimes their friends went with them. Many of the women leaving were widowed.

It was also true that she didn't need much serving. Most Lords attending the King in Edoras were now also riding with him to Minas Tirith. Since after her queries it was obvious Éowyn was with them as well, there were only a few other noble women present. Those women had no ancestral home to escape to, as most women of noble birth had done. They had been relieved to leave, with a household guard as escort, most rode out of Edoras like fire was under their hooves.

And yes, Aefwyn would have been happier if she could have sat under a more familiar roof in Aldburg.

As evening fell over the city, a cloud of worries descended over Aefwyn. She had sent two soldiers of the garrison to Aldburg for her children, with the instruction to take two men more to the way back from there. Even though all of the orcs were surely heading towards Minas Tirith now, there were other dangers that were present.

And besides her children her husband had gone away. It would be at least four days more for the Rohirrim to reach Minas Tirith, if she remembered right, and the same way back for news as well. If there would ever be a messenger to bear it.

oOo

Aefwyn spent her days in various tasks that didn't require standing. Her ankles would swell so that her skin felt a tad too tight, and her lower back developed a dull ache because of her added weight to support. So, she read inventories and even dared a peek into the account ledgers. The numbers were decent, but she knew she could improve, especially after she discovered several practices that required extra effort for everyone included. The task of bookkeeping had never been a challenge to her, the tidy columns and rows were comforting. And she enjoyed the challenge of seeing the numbers grow where the ink was black and diminish on the red side, and knowing she had her hand in the developments.

After each day's work and eating dinner she would sit in the room she and Éomer shared, by the fire. As she sat there, she kept a silent eulogy for those she knew that had gone to war.

She didn't want to, but she knew she had to, if she had any intention of remaining calm when she heard the news. If she acquainted herself with the idea that they were unlikely to ever come back, it would be ever easier for her to bear when she finally heard the words. She knew that if she would have kept wishing and believing everyone was going to be safe, she would be twice the more devastated when they wouldn't return.

But never did she imagine herself a widow. She dared not, for that seemed too much like an invitation. She just thought of them all, and loved them.

At dinnertime she spoke with her children, and that was why she only thought her sad thoughts after eating. On the third day the men had returned with her children. As all three were still small enough to sit at a man's lap without being much a hindrance, they'd made good speed. It'd been a happy reunion, though she'd had a hard time not crying.

Éowyn was constantly on her mind. Even when she worked she thought of the younger woman, whom she assumed posed as a man, riding along with the army to the east. Merry the Hobbit was with them as well, it seemed, for he too had vanished with the Riders.

Aefwyn thought and worried her discussions with Éowyn in her mind, seeing before her the other woman's beautiful pale visage, the anguished eyes staring at her. And then she saw the determination, and she knew that this was not some folly of the moment, but that the lady had been planning it since she heard of the chance of going.

It became ever clearer to her that there was very little she could have done to prevent Éowyn. If she had realized the plan sooner she could have prevented it by telling Éomer about it. And that was why Éowyn had kept her out of her confidence. She knew her brother would chain her to a pole to prevent her, or ship her off with shackle and guard to Meduseld, to be kept under lock and key in her room. And she knew too that no one would fault him, for war was not a place for a high-born maiden such as her.

It took two weeks for the first of the injured to reach Edoras with the news.

* * *

><p>AN: I know it's quite short, but I didn't want to mix the mood of this one with the mood of next one that I wrote a bit last night, which is of course the battle. It's totally different, and wouldn't go at all with this, so... And it's Éomer's POV, at least thus far.

This chapter ends around March 28 or so, because obviously people who are injured and travel home to heal completely are the ones who go tell the news when every able body is needed? The Battle of Pelennor takes place March 15, and the chapter begins from March 10. If that makes any sense.

Anyways, that's all for me now, I'm going to be off in few hours to Greece, and hopefully sunshine :) Thank you very much everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed and/or read the story. I'd bake you cookies, but you don't want me to bake ;P


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: So, here again!

Dare I say another word, or will I be lynched?

Yeah, I'm truly sorry it took this long. Like I told you, I've been pretty depressed, and when you add to that the stress of actually having to handle some stuff that **should** be handled by my boss... Well, not pretty, tell you that much. Enough about me, just have to say I'm sorry again, now get on with it!

(It's twice longer than the previous one, will you forgive me?)

* * *

><p>It had been the longest five days in his life. The travel had mostly been uneventful, although the detour through Druadan forest had broken the steady rhythm somewhat. He hadn't been too excited about the forest, to tell the truth, it gave him chills.<p>

Now, however, he could make out the city in the distance, its highest citadel a white needle against an inky black sky. Afore it was a host and turmoil like of which he had never seen.

There was fire everywhere, some parts of the city seemed to be ablaze and grass was burning in wide arches around them. Théoden led them eastward, gazing at the city, suddenly looking frail to his nephew. Éomer surveyed the scenery before him, taking in once again the mighty trolls swarming at the gates with their spiky armor; the orcs that from the distance looked like ants swarming around a crumb of sugar.

And then he heard his uncle cry:

"Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden! Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!" He seized his banner-bearer's horn and blew it. And right away, so sounded every other horn the Rohirrim had as a thunderous blast. The sound would have been deafening, had not his blood pounded in his ears as battle-lust took over him.

There was orc blood to be spilled, and he couldn't have been more eager.

"Ride now, ride now, ride to Gondor!" His uncle cried again, but he couldn't quite hear. Firefoot sprung after Snowmane down the slight hill and as they reached the base and their enemy, the host started singing.

They sang and they slaughtered, and for then and there, nothing was more natural for Éomer. His rage had boiled up within him for long years, and now he was finally allowed to release it.

oOo

The battle had not seemed to last that long, but it must have. He panted with exertion, only now feeling his weariness. Then, his father's men came to him, speaking of a great winged beast that had driven their mounts with terror so overwhelming they had only then regained control. With them, he rode on, to where the carcass of the monster lay on the ground.

When they got closer he saw the white, blood-stained coat of his uncle's horse, and dismounted. He walked to his uncle's corpse, mute with grief.

He remembered not afterwards the words he spoke, nor that they took from Théoden's banner-bearer's cold hands his standard. He did remember, with morbid clarity, another figure entirely.

His dear baby sister, dearer to him than his own life, lay there, her golden locks released from her helmet during the fray. He cried and wept for her too, until a cold fury took him over and he mustered his men, almost eager and willing to ride to his own doom as well. At that moment, he would have told anyone asking that he wished to share the cold grave with his kin, for no thought of Aefwyn and her hope could penetrate the gloom that had landed upon him.

oOo

It was not until they entered the city with Aragorn the Dúnadan – who had, somehow, survived the Path of the Dead – that he found out Éowyn was not among the dead, but still clung to life. He had expected to find her cold corpse lying still beside their uncle, but when he inquired about her Lord Imrahil of Dol Amroth told him his sister yet lived.

The rest of the day seemed as much a blur to him as had the fight on Pelennor Fields. He could only muster, with vivid and ghastly clarity, the scene amidst which he had found his sister.

He sat by and watched, numb, as Aragorn tried his hand at healing them. The Dúnadan spoke of Black Breath, of the coldness that creeps towards the heart until it can beat no more, of the dark and restless dreams that must now course through Éowyn's mind.

There were also other voices, addressing him as king. Yes, king he must have been, if truly it was his uncle lying on cold stone deep in the bowels of the citadel. The thought only fluttered over his scattered consciousness, not taking hold.

He sat by her side, holding her hand, reminiscing to her their childhood. Unbidden memories of their lady mother's smile, of their lord father's grim countenance that only softened to a smile with his family, the love with which his parents had looked at each other came to him, sitting there. Listening to her shallow, yet strengthening breath as her grip on life strengthened.

Within those memories as often as not he also saw Aefwyn's face, and then among the images of his parents he saw the recollection of her own children, of how his parents would have sat there, watching them play or read or telling them stories. He knew, with a dreamy certainty, that his mother would have approved his choice of bride.

Such memories could never be, but in his exhausted state he was suddenly very certain his parents were smiling upon him that instant, proud that he had left something of himself and them in this world.

For he knew that the war was not yet won, that they must ride out. What they had fought had certainly been a large force, but not all the strength of Mordor.

Suddenly, he heard Aragorn say "Awake, Éowyn, Lady of Rohan", and saw his sister's eyes flutter open. In his subconsciousness, a long time had passed, but awake, only moments.

"Éowyn, Éowyn", he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Éomer! What joy is this? They said you were dead… No, but those were only the dark voices in my dreams. How long was I dreaming?"

"Not for long, my sister, and think no more of it!" Éomer said, grasping her hand tighter in his.

"I am so tired, I think I will sleep a while longer. But first, tell me, what of the Lord of the Mark? Do not tell me that was a dark dream as well, or is he dead as he foresaw?"

"He is dead," said Éomer,

"But he bade me to bid farewell to Éowyn, dearer than daughter. He now lies under the Great Citadel." Éowyn gave him a sad, tired nod before closing her eyes and drifting to sleep.

The next day, when most felt little better rested, the leaders of the Free Peoples and the city and what was left of the Fellowship took counsel in tents erected on the field of Pelennor. The chosen spot was quite near to where Théoden had died, and seeing the soiled ground made a lump rise to Éomer's throat.

It was decided there, that a force of seven thousand was to march to the Black Gate in challenge, to give the Ringbearer a chance to reach the Mountain of Doom. Further three thousand of the still able Riders were to waylay the road to Anórien, led by Elfhelm.

Two days after the battle they were ready to march. Éomer knew as well as his men, that this would most likely be a suicide mission for them. The camp had been quiet the night before, no raucous jokes or scuffles of good nature were to be seen. Éomer had slept soundly, dreaming of Aefwyn. It had been the sort of dream he kept closest to his heart.

In it, Aefwyn had come to him, spoken to him words that had rung in his ears like crystal bells – though he could no longer recall the words –, and walked into his arms, without a single scrap of clothing. He had admired her form, matronly now in her motherhood. Though she was no longer how she'd been all those years ago on their wedding night, her bosom was still high, her hips rounded, her waist a curve between the two, all just slightly bigger. And to that, he held no objection. Instead of waking with a pounding heart at their passion's fulfillment, he had dreamt of slumber against her bosom, her fingers entwined in his hair.

And instead of waking in the morning feeling forlorn and empty as many a dream of Aefwyn had left him when she was not there, he woke like a new man into the first morning of his life. Somehow, she had with her touch in his dreams taken away the horror that had been: Éowyn, he knew, would be well in time and his heart was renewed with hope. Even the death of his uncle seemed not to weigh him as it had, though the pain was still fresh.

oOo

It was not yet noon when the army reached Osgiliath. There were many men at work, repairing and strengthening the ferries and boat-bridges made by the enemy on the western bank and building defenses on the eastern side.

Five miles eastward of the city the army camped for the first night. On a hill near their chosen location was a crossroads and around it a ring of trees. Inside the ring of trees stood a stone statue, and next to it on the ground was a stone head that had clearly once resided on top. Now it had been replaced with a likeness of an orc's head.

Aragorn bid trumpeters to blow a fanfare and raised his voice, seeing the defiled statue, and spoke:

"The Lords of Gondor have returned, and all this land that is theirs, they take back!"

Few men set to the task of removing the orc head from the statue and hauled the figure of a long dead king back atop its place and crowned it with garlands of flowers.

Come morning, they decided to set a few guards at the crossroads, should someone try to circle behind the host from Morgul Vale, and continued on. There were no sightings of the enemy, for every orc this side of the mountains had been defeated at Pelennor.

A dark gloom grew in Éomer's chest. He had not dreamt again of Aefwyn after beginning the march, and the light of hope she had sown into his heart in dream was wearing thin. All around him men looked as worn and worried as he felt. Not even the bright notes of the heralds marching ahead of the host trumpeting their coming could lift his spirits. Imrahil had told them to sound the coming of King Elessar, instead of the Lords of Gondor, for far greater fear would strike their foe with that name.

A ways ahead, an ambush was waiting. They had been warned of it by Mablung, who had taken Faramir's seat in Henneth Annûn for time being. Éomer and his Riders were soon sent out, and the little skirmish re-strengthened his resolve. It was not much of a battle, but Firefoot seemed pleased with himself afterwards and had an extra pounce in his gait for quite a while.

Above them the Nazgûl were circling with their fell beasts. None could see them except Legolas and the sons of Elrond who had ridden with them, but they all knew they were there, for their hearts grew heavy.

On the sixth day since departing from Minas Tirith they came to the edge of the desolation that surrounded the Black Gates for miles around. Some younger, greener men that had not lived so close to the shadow of the enemy could not continue longer, for great was the fear in their hearts of the darkness that lie ahead.

Aragorn spoke to them, and told them to go to Cairn Andros, and to not be ashamed of themselves, for indeed few could walk into their deaths without dread. In Cairn Andros, he told them, they could take up the last defense of Gondor and Rohan, and that they should take it back if it was still held by the enemy to make it their stronghold. Many found their courage after he spoke to them, and continued on with the host, but as many took the road south as Aragorn had told them.

After a quick calculation of how many had stayed at the crossroads and how many turned back now, Éomer came to the conclusion that they still had nigh six thousand men. A pitiful force, compared to Gondor at its full might, but still not one to take lightly.

The next day they continued on slowly. Few had slept the previous night, for even though the moon was new and growing fumes and smoke rose from the ground and hid the sky and many a creature of evil could be heard circling their campfires at night.

At last they approached Morannon from north-west, not knowing that this was the way Frodo had come earlier, before meeting Faramir and climbing the stairs above Morgul Vale. The gates were closed between the Towers of the Teeth, underneath the ramparts of Cirith Gorgor, constantly patrolled.

Éomer found himself wondering how the Ringbearer had ever managed to cross the mountains, though Gandalf said he had. This way he surely had not come, for it would have been foolishness and suicide.

Gandalf and Aragorn, accompanied by Éomer himself, the sons of Elrond, Legolas, Gimli and Peregrin Took rode forth from the main host and stopped a dozen or so yards in front of them. The banner of the King was unfurled, and trumpets were blown, and the heralds cried out in unison:

"Come forth! Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils and depart then for ever. Come forth!"

At first it seemed there would be no answer, and Éomer was already urging Firefoot around when the doors of the Black Gate started to open.

Out of them rode a man dressed in black from head to toe, a hideous man if ever to lay eyes upon. His mouth was like a sore wound, his eyes two empty sockets where a fire burned, and his skin sickly pale.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron," he spoke, after he and his small escort had stopped in front of the delegation of the West. Behind him stood indeed five soldiers all dressed in black, the one in the middle bearing a black banner with a red eye upon it.

"Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me? Or indeed of wit enough to understand me? Not you, at least," he turned to look at Aragorn.

"It takes more than a piece of elvish glass or a rabble such as this to make a king. Why, any brigand on the hills can show such a following." There was amusement in that cold, dry voice. Aragorn did not speak, but his eyes that beheld the ambassador were cold and sharp as pieces of steel.

"I am a herald and an ambassador, I may not be assailed!" The Mouth said, seeing his face. Éomer contained his mirth, for indeed, if looks could kill, the Mouth of Sauron wouldn't have finished that sentence.

"Where such laws hold, it is usually customary to speak with less insolence," intoned Gandalf, and continued:

"But worry not. You shall come to no harm until our business is concluded. But unless your master has come to new wisdom, it seems all your days are in peril."

"So! Then you are the spokesman, old greybeard? Have we not heard of you, twining your webs from afar, ever traveling to and fro? This time you have stuck your nose too far, Master Gandalf, and you shall see what comes of him who sets his webs at the feet of Sauron the Great. I have tokens I was bid to show you – especially to you, should you dare to look." He gestured to his guard, and one of them came forth with a bundle swathed in black cloth.

From it he procured first a small sword, and then a short cloak Éomer figured would suit a Halfling, similar to the ones Merry and Pippin wore; and finally a gleaming shirt of mithril, also of hobbit-size. Éomer heard Pippin let out a cry of anguish seeing the items on display, and Gandalf's command for silence, but he didn't want to stray his eyes from the harbinger and didn't turn his gaze.

The Mouth of Sauron seemed to smile, seeing Pippin, and crowed in seeming delight:

"Oh, you have another of these imps with you! What use are they to you, I cannot fathom, but to send them as spies into Mordor is beyond your usual folly. Still, I thank him, for it is obvious he has seen these before, and it would be in vain for you to deny that now."

"I have indeed seen them, and know their history better than you ever might. But why do you bring them here?"

"Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak and a blade of the forgotten West and a spy from the rat-land of Shire… Nay, speak no more, we all know; these are clearly the marks of conspiracy. Now, maybe he who bore these clothes is someone you would not grieve to lose, or maybe otherwise; one dear to you, perhaps? If so, take quick council with whatever wits you have left, for Sauron has no love of spies."

No one answered him, and in their faces he saw something that clearly pleased him.

"Good, good! Clearly he was dear to you. Or else his errand was one that you did not wish to fail? It has. And now he shall endure the slow torment of years, as long and slow as our arts in the Great Tower can contrive, and never be released, unless as some broken and ghastly creature so as you can see what you have done. This shall surely be unless you accept my Lord's terms."

"Name them, then," Gandalf said, his face drawn and weary.

"These are the terms: the rabble of Gondor and its deluded allies shall at once withdraw beyond the Anduin, first taking oaths never to assail Sauron the Great in arms, open or secret. All lands east of Anduin shall belong to Sauron, for ever, solely. From Anduin to Misty Mountains and the Gap of Rohan, shall all be tributary to Mordor, and men there shall bear no weapons but shall have leave to control their own affairs. But, they shall help to rebuild Isengard, which they have so wantonly destroyed, and that shall be Sauron's, and there shall dwell his Lieutenant. Not Saruman, but someone more worthy of trust."

Éomer was half prepared to cut down the messenger, no matter the consequences, but before he got a chance to put the thought into action Gandalf answered.

"This is much to demand for the return of one servant: that your master should receive in exchange what he would need many a war to win. Or has the Field of Gondor destroyed his hope in war so that he must resort to haggling? And if indeed we rate this prisoner high enough to accept, what says Sauron, the Base Master of Treachery, will keep his part? Where is this prisoner? Let him be released to us so we may consider these demands."

For a moment the messenger was silent, staring at Gandalf intently. Éomer felt his skin crawl as the two stared each other in the eye. Then the messenger laughed and spoke yet again:

"Do not bandy words in your insolence with the Mouth of Sauron! Surety you crave, Sauron gives none. If you sue for his clemency you must first do his bidding. These are his terms, take them or leave them."

It sounded to Éomer like Gandalf would have muttered the words _These we will take_, before throwing back his grey cloak and revealing the bright white robes within. They shone so bright in the darkness before the gates, that for a moment he had to blink tears from his eyes. Gandalf had gone to the messenger and removed from his possession the mithril shirt, cloak and sword, and returned without a backward glance. The Mouth seemed stunned by the brightness of the wizard's robes, and his guards were shielding their eyes from the light that seemed to emanate from the old man.

"These we will take, for the memory of our friend. But your terms we shall not accept. Begone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come here to waste words treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed, nor his minions. Begone!" Gandalf spoke loud enough that his words were surely heard upon the ramparts of Cirith Gorgor.

The messenger looked at him, puzzled. Then, sounds of fury escaped his throat, he turned around his steed and rode back towards the gates. His guards followed him, but as they went one took a horn to his lips and blew it, over and over again.

The gates opened once more, but not slightly as they had when the harbinger had rode to meet them, but fully open, and from them poured out an army. It was not a small one, but all that remained within the Black Land, a seething mass of men, trolls and orcs. Also, as the Captains rode back to their troops, from the hills west and east poured masses of Easterlings and orcs, so that they were surrounded on all sides.

The army had been arranged on two hills of slag, so that the footmen of Gondor surrounded one and men of Dol Amroth and Rohan the other. They stood there, waiting for the enemy to assault, and then the Nazgûl swept low and fear settled upon them.

Éomer thought of Éowyn, of her bravery to have slain the Witch King, and swore he would try his best to cull this herd. The fewer survived their desperate attack, the further would his family be able to flee. He had been raised to protect his country and his people – now truly his as part of a responsibility he didn't wish for – and that he would do, to his dying breath here today.

* * *

><p>AN: Not much of a cliffie at this point, but it seemed like as good a point to stop as any.

I just wanted to thank everyone who has followed, favorited or reviewed this story, and I know it's a cliché, but I really wouldn't have got this far without your support. I love getting email from FF *wink wink*

At this point, I think were only a few chapter away from the ending, and whatever sh*t life decides to throw my way, I swear I will finish this. Probably because I pretty much know how I want to wrap this up already... and let me tell you, it's nothing like I thought it would be when I started writing this ;D But then again, the characters really overpowered me at some point (around chapter 4?) and I haven't been in control in a LONG time...


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Hello again!

Much shorter than the previous chapter... but I hope you'll forgive me that in the light of me telling you were pretty close to the finishing line. I've a feeling it's only a chapter or two - maybe three depending on what I decide to include.

And then, a response to a review I got for chapter 24 and Marigold from Borys68: Yeah, that wasn't my strongest moment of naming, but what's done is done and she's Marigold. If it makes you feel better, imagine her having a sister named Violet and be happy she's not in the story ;)

Thank you very much for all your support (and reviews) everyone, I love getting email from FF ^^

* * *

><p>Aefwyn blew out a sigh of relief as the contraction passed. Her time was coming, but it was not yet, and not for two more months. Her body was preparing for delivery, and her worried state made her contractions come earlier than they had with the previous children.<p>

She untangled herself from the sweaty sheets and sat up. Her bladder was full to bursting, or so it felt, and she twinged when the baby seemed to deliberately aim a few sharp kicks that way. This one was strong; it's kicks fiercer every passing day. Perhaps it did feel the air grow thick with worry and wished to leave her protective womb.

After she had washed her face and dressed with the aid of Marigold, she waddled to the main hall to break her fast. The king's advisors came to her, eager to know of any messenger, but after missives had been received of the victory in Pelennor Fields, silence had yet again reigned.

With the missives she had received a few lines from Éomer, telling her that indeed Éowyn had been with the Rohirrim army, and that she had been wounded in the battle. She was relieved to learn that at the time of writing, Éowyn had been recovering, albeit she had been bedridden and weakened. Edoras had gone to mourning after hearing the other news the letter bore: King Théoden had perished in battle.

That was why Aefwyn was also wearing black. The color suited her ill, but this was the only mourning gown in all of Edoras that would fit her expanding girth. She would have much preferred dark grey, but had sensibly thought that having a new gown made at such a late stage of her pregnancy would be a waste of money. Especially when she had no idea whether her womb would ever quicken again – she would not remarry, should Éomer never return. She could not.

The letter had ended in ominous words: _We shall tomorrow morning at first light ride toward the Black Gates to challenge the Dark Lord. Such a challenge it shall be that we have no hope of victory, unless the love of Béma shine over us. I have been told of a young hobbit, a Ringbearer, for whom we attempt this final decoy. You shall have all my love, my heart and my soul, whether they should perish beneath the gates or nay. –Yours, Éomer._

Her heart clenched as the words came back to her. She had taken up a habit of walking through the city to the eastern tower of the city walls. From the tower, she could watch over the road east. No one had come through that way for days, but today she again ascended the stairwell.

The sky above the eastern horizon looked slightly less ominous today, the darkest clouds having dispersed during the night. Still, there were dark clouds looming in the horizon, but the pale pink dawn somehow encouraged her.

The sky had been so dark the past weeks, especially before the battle, that this new light seemed overly bright to her. She wondered if it meant that against all odds the army had managed to win.

oOo

It was in the beginning of the third week of April that Aefwyn finally received official news of the victory in Gondor. She summoned the Advisors of the King to the library, and spoke to them:

"My Lords, this morning a messenger came to me, bearing a letter from my lord husband. It is dated 12th of April month, and has been sent to me from Minas Tirith.

Here he tells you, that the Dark Lord Sauron has been defeated and destroyed and his Ring of Power has returned to whence it came. I shall not read to you his entire tale of Frodo, the Ringbearer, but if you wish you may peruse the page later.

He also bids you to know that the Age of Kings is returning in Gondor, that the Dúnadan Aragorn son of Arathorn shall be crowned king of Gondor in a week's time. After the coronation my lord husband is intent on returning to Edoras with the Lady Éowyn."

The councilmen regarded her silently. Despite their curiosity they loved her not, for they were sons of high lords of Rohan, and mighty lords in their own right. She was to them an upjumped scullion, despite the fact that her father was as much a lord of the realm as they were. And despite the fact that she was the mother of the heir apparent, now that her husband was king.

"Is there something you wish us to do, my lady?" One of the councilmen asked. He was younger than most of them, perhaps forty, and one that did not regard her with as obvious disdain as the rest.

"My lord husband tells me, that as they return they shall not yet bring with them the remains of Théoden King, but that the building of his tomb should be commenced. Also, a feast celebrating the memory of those who perished before the walls of Minas Tirith and the Black Gate should be organized to be held shortly after their return – that shall also act as my lord husband's coronation, as per his wishes - with a funeral feast to the King held after his body has been brought back to Edoras."

"A tomb and a feast. As you wish, my lady." The councilman nodded solemnly.

"You are dismissed until my lord returns. He shall wish to address you personally upon his arrival." The men filed out of the room, each giving her a small bow on their way out. She didn't bother to remark that as she was their future queen, their bows should have been significantly more reverent.

As the last of the men had left, she sighed and sat down with enjoyment. It would be a month yet before her time came, and her body felt unwieldy. Her ankles were swollen, and standing for any extended period of time made her feet ache.

Morwen came out from behind the King's table, and sat again at her feet.

"Why were you here, sweetheart?" Aefwyn asked her.

"I was here before you came with the Council and then I didn't want to leave when you were talking." Her daughter was holding a book in her small hands.

"I wanted something to read." Morwen had learned to read easily, and Aefwyn feared the library of Meduseld would be too small and rather boring for a girl her age. She would have to order some books from Gondor soon, especially now that the war had been won and Morwen would need to learn Westron at some point.

She smiled at her daughter and held out her hand for the girl.

"Perhaps a bite to eat, now that were finished here?" Morwen nodded, her serious gaze unreadable as always. In some ways Aefwyn knew her firstborn like the back of her hand, but in others the girl was a mystery to her. Éomer was closer to the girl, as they spent much time at the stables together when Éomer was at home.

"Why don't they like you?" Aefwyn glanced at the girl, surprised. And she had thought the men had been subtle in their dislike.

"They think I'm too low-born to have married your father." She saw no reason to hide it. Morwen would never be as lowly in their eyes as she was because of Éomer.

"But what about grandfather?"

"They mustn't remember him at all. He hasn't been here often since my mother passed. He has only once been to Aldburg, when Éomund was a baby."

"I remember that… I think." The girl looked up to her, a small smile on her lips. Aefwyn smiled back, unsure whether the memory was real or not.

oOo

She fidgeted. She had tried holding her hands still in her lap, but had failed miserably. Aefwyn had taken a seat next to the King's throne, on the right side. Her seat was smaller in every way than the magnificent carved behemoth to her side, but still the only chair with armrests wide enough for her to sit comfortably. The birth was nigh, she could feel the baby settling lower in her stomach. Not today, she prayed, for today was the day of Éomer's return.

She had taken her seat early, for she couldn't imagine walking to the gates and her chambers felt too tight and airless. She had been nervous of seeing her lord husband again, nervous of lady Éowyn returning, nervous of the councilmen who now looked at her with calculation in their eyes.

Marigold entered the hall from the opposite end and came to her. The girl was thin as a willow-wand, pretty as only a young girl was. Her golden hair was braided and the other end hung over the shoulder of her black dress. Even the servants were in deep mourning for their dead king, and the color suited her as ill as it did Aefwyn.

"My lady, they have entered the city." Aefwyn smiled and nodded.

"Do you wish to go outside?" The girl was prepared to haul her up and help her walk outside, but she was in no mood to rise.

"No, better I wait here. I feel like an overripe melon ready to burst." It was true. She had contractions every day now, still weak, but she thought if she would rise her water would break. Even though Éomer would be thrilled to welcome the baby, he wouldn't probably want her to give birth outside where everyone could see. The girl smiled and took her place behind her chair.

It did not take overly long for the yet-uncrowned king and his retinue to reach Meduseld. It did take long enough for Aefwyn to start feel sullen again, bound indoors with her big belly and surrounded by different levels of hostility.

Oddly, Odwyn had made herself scarce in Aefwyn's presence of late, likely out of fear of being put out of the manor should she displease the queen apparent. Aefwyn had toyed with the thought but didn't want to stoop to the head maid's level.

Aefwyn would have rather hoped that the councilmen would have made themselves as scarce as the head maid. She could feel the wheels turning in their heads, and she knew they bore no good will for her. They were planning something, she could feel it in her bones.

Before she could brood any longer, the doors were opened and her lord husband strode in, flanked by several high ranking Riders she recognized. There were several faces she had grown accustomed to seeing in her husband's presence who were missing, but nevertheless she could feel a smile forming on her face.

Éomer strode straight toward her, a smile brighter than the sun lighting his features. He kneeled at her feet, very unceremoniously, and kissed her hands, gripping them tightly.

"Against all odds, my dearest, I've come home." He stood up, taking in her form with a long glance that promised he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and turned to his councilmen.

"Is everything prepared as per my wishes?" The men nodded, clearly more eager to please him than they'd ever been for her.

"Indeed, my liege, the building of King Théoden's mound has been begun, as you must have seen, and the feast is prepared for tomorrow night." The eldest councilman intoned, serious, a victorious look on his face for getting the chance to speak.

"I will speak with you after I've had a word with the council." Éomer whispered to her and she nodded, smiling up on him. He went with the men and there was Éowyn, smiling.

There was a new light upon her features, her eyes were bright and shining. Aefwyn could only wonder what had brought about this newfound happiness, but felt assured she would find out very soon.

"Éowyn!"

* * *

><p>AN: Admittedly a very weak cliffhanger (again), but seeing that my chapters are pretty few and far between (sorry about that) I really don't want to leave it with some major cliffie - not that I'd have one, to be honest.

Seeing that Aefwyn has been pretty brooding, I didn't think it a good idea to try and change the feel of the chapter too much by getting all happy and reunion-y all of the sudden. If you think I should have, feel free to review and tell me so...

And on another note, I'll be putting up a preview of a second fic idea I've been toying with on my profile later this week. If you're the least bit interested, check it out.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Hello again! I wanted to give you guys a new chapter for Christmas and then I thought about New Year's, but well, that didn't quite happen, did it?

Anyway, without further ado, here you go:

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry I left without telling you, Aefwyn." Éowyn didn't really look remorseful, but her tone was sad.<p>

"I understand why you did it. I wouldn't have understood then."

"I don't regret going." Her eyes were steely.

"From what you told me, you needed to be there. Don't worry, Éowyn, I'm not holding it against you."

They sat together in her chambers, a steaming cup of tea on her hand and a small goblet of wine in Éowyn's.

"But do tell me more. What happened after the battle?"

"Lord Aragorn healed me, I suppose, of the nazgûl's black touch. I don't recall being taken to the city, but I woke up in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith." There was a new shine to her eyes as she mentioned the Houses of Healing.

"I met a man there, Faramir son of Denethor. We are in love and hope to marry as soon as possible." She smiled, a smile so relieved, happy and loving Aefwyn felt her own heart lighten. Éowyn had waited so long, seen her brother marry her friend and waited still. Yet now, Aefwyn could see, she had a new brightness to her, more than her fair beauty. Surely, in Minas Tirith, she would shine brightest among the mortal ladies; Aefwyn knew of Aragorn's love for an elf maiden and suspected not even Éowyn could shine as brightly as the Evenstar.

"I'm so happy for you, Éowyn." She smiled, brighter than even when she'd seen her husband returning, and put down her cup to reach out to hug her sister-in-law. Éowyn returned her hug back as fiercely, tears of joy gleaming in her eyes.

"Tell me more of him", she said as they parted.

"He is the son of the late Steward, who died during the battle. He was wounded trying to defend Osgiliath, and so was in the Houses while I was there. Oh, he is surely the loveliest man I have laid eyes upon, lovelier even to me than Lord Legolas." There was a twinkle in her eyes, and she winked as she finished. Certainly, her time in Minas Tirith had done her good: Aefwyn could scarce remember seeing her so carefree and relaxed. Her outward demeanor had been so demure, so subdued during the time of her uncles illness that this new Éowyn seemed like a person born anew.

"A Steward of Gondor for the White Lady of Rohan, surely a fitting match, even without your love." Aefwyn smiled, feeling somewhat maternal. Even lady Théodwyn would have been more than pleased by such a match. She had married for love, and loved her husband deeply enough to fall into the grave so soon after him, but she must have also been mindful of station: any mother had to be, to look after her daughters' best interest.

The thought made her wince, inwardly: undoubtedly lady Théodwyn would have had her issues about Aefwyn marrying her son; no matter her father was nobly born, she was a bastard of a maid. Lady Théodwyn's approval had sometimes crossed her mind in the dark: after all, she was ruling in her husband's stead the city Théodwyn had ruled before her, in Éomund's stead. The thought had given her many a sleepless nights until she had come to the conclusion that the dead woman could hardly think anything of her now. Why should she bother herself with such idle wonderings? After that, she hardly thought of the matter until now that she imagined herself sending off her daughters for marriage one day.

"More than fitting. Do tell me, Aefwyn – I hope I did not put an ungainly burden on your shoulders when I left."

"Not more than I could bear. Except for the Council meetings I had as easy time here as in Aldburg." She left out her worries and her troubled dreams, her worries that she might never again lay eyes on Éomer again. Such fears were behind her now; there was no point to ruin the sweet moment with such bitter thoughts.

"They are such judgmental little men, more suited amongst the judging nobles of Gondor than here." For the first time, Éowyn's smile faltered and her brows creased.

"I fear the nobles of Rohan think Faramir is marrying beneath his station, even though I am a princess of royal blood and he the son of a mere Steward. I think I completely understand how you've felt along the years." Her smile was lopsided and dry. Aefwyn wondered how fancy these people thought their pedigrees were: to think themselves above a princess.

"Peculiar", she remarked, just as wryly.

They sat in silence for a long while, both thinking their individual thoughts, all the experiences of the past months too much to exhaust in one go. After a while, when their cups had emptied, they made their way to the Hall – via Éowyn's chambers so she could change – just in time for dinner. It was a feast, to be more honest, the tables filled by soldiers drunk anew of their victory and their return to Rohan. Aefwyn took her seat next to her husband, a thrilling joy filling her as she let her eyes wander over his profile. He turned his head to her and smiled, and a smile crept up her lips as well. She knew her expression mirrored his: two people so focused on each other that everything else around them faded. So it was always as they saw each other after his absences, and she felt again like the young girl giddy of her first love she had been years ago.

She knew people about them were smiling at them too, and she even felt through her haze the disapproving glances of the members of the Council. She cared not, for now she had her husband back.

After dinner she retired with Éomer, both eager for the little privacy and time together a king and his wife were allotted. After the door had closed behind them Éomer shook of his vest and took off his shirt. Thus half-undressed he lay down on the bed, patting the cover next to him for her to join him. She waved her hand, _soon_, and went first to the privy. After returning she wiggled out of the dark grey sack of cloth that was her maternity-wear. Having abandoned even the lightest corselets years ago, she mostly wore a blouse of cotton and a separate skirt, but during these last times of her pregnancy she had become uninterested with her wardrobe. The court was still mourning King Théoden, as well, so her normal earthy tones would have been a major breach of etiquette as well.

After shedding off the unneeded daywear she snuggled by her husband's side. Éomer had been following her with his eyes as she'd moved through the room, clearly impatient to speak with her but unwilling to broach the subject as long as she was about.

"The Council wanted to discuss with me a 'matter of great import', as Ladulf put it." He paused there shortly, pressing his cheek against her head and pulling her closer with the arm he held around her.

"They want me to put you aside for a lady of nobler stock. Apparently, now that I am the King of Rohan I must needs marry someone from a loftier background. Apparently, to make a queen of a woman that has changed their sheets is to them a nightmare of magnificent proportion." His tone was emotionless, and Aefwyn knew he was terribly angry.

"They want me to put aside the mother of my children, to declare my son and daughters bastards, to claim this baby under your heart is an adulterous seed of some fool of a man you have bedded in my absence." He almost mumbled the last words, clearly embarrassed to speak so of her even though it was clear he disagreed with the words.

"There are great many things they want, Éomer, and to remove me from the court and your arms has been one of their favorites for quite some time." She looked up to his face, at his pained and angry expression, the aquiline features she loved with all her heart.

"Yes, but this is the most nonsensical suggestion I'm yet to hear from the men supposedly wisest in the realm." He looked sad for a moment, until his anger returned.

"There is no way that I'd put you aside. If they cannot abide to look at you by my side, they might as well give up their positions and go back to their homes." His grip on her was fierce, both his arms around her now, and he pressed his lips against her brow.

"I would rather give up the crown than you."

"I believe you." It was a needless phrase, but Aefwyn had to say it. Sometimes Éomer could be thick-headed and sometimes Aefwyn doubted if he yet truly believed her love. For a man as beautiful as he was, for a man who had always been favored by women, he had always been strangely insecure of her love. Like he couldn't truly believe the woman of his dreams felt as he did, even after four children and years of marriage.

"I was so enraged to hear them speak so I just dismissed them, but tomorrow I will tell them no such thing will take place."

Aefwyn, knowing her husband had fought hard as a young man to rein in his fiery nature, knew that often he preferred keeping silent to speaking when he knew his words would be heated. It had taken a long time for him to learn that his wife understood his rare outbursts, having known him as he had been as a child; quick to anger and sometimes as quick to calm down and forgive. Surely, sometimes his wrath had longevity to match the cooler hate of others, but more often he forgot his anger or tried to temper his earlier outbursts after thinking things through.

oOo

The next day Aefwyn slept late. Éomer had left the room when she woke, and she knew already where he'd gone. To tell the members of the council that their will was insignificant to him in this matter and that the coronation would be soon.

Also, Éomer would see off the twin sons of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, who had stayed the night. They had been unwilling to stay longer, not even until his coronation that night. Elladan and Elrohir, as the young elves were called, were to travel north to fetch their sister Lady Arwen to marry Lord Aragorn. Aefwyn had met them during the impromptu feast the previous night, and had liked them even though they had conversed only briefly. The twins seemed not to mind her low station compared to her husband and her to them her pregnant form had been a miracle to watch. Aefwyn had learned that elven women only rarely had children on these shores, ever fewer every passing millennia. The sons of Elrond had explained to them that the time of elves in Middle-Earth was ending and that more and more of them were traveling to the Grey Havens and forward into the West. It had made her sad, for the twins were beautiful to see and to know such beauty was leaving made her melancholy. Her sadness had not lasted long, however, for the twins had been charming company and her husband was home at last.

She got up, shedding her thoughts with the bedclothes. Rinsing her hands, arms and face with water by the washbasin and drying them took her only a few minutes, and as she didn't feel compelled to bother Marigold with helping her dress she dressed herself.

The girl would be busy helping setting up the feast, and having worked in Edoras Aefwyn knew Odwyn would be stressed and irritable. All the maids knew to avoid her and try to be extra productive in times like these.

After breaking her fast in the hall she studied the ledgers for a few hours before preparing herself for the feast. Although Théoden's remains had not been brought back to Edoras already, the realm needed a king, and to rule Rohan, Éomer must have a coronation.

There were enough noble Rohirrim in the city to give the event the weight it needed, but Aefwyn knew Éomer might have preferred smaller festivities with even fewer nobles present. The people of Rohan were down-to-earth and laid-back, but noble blood brought always with it a certain sense of grandeur and self-importance. Éomer, having been born to parents who disliked tradition, pomp and festivities, wasn't thrilled of being the center of attention, not even when that had been his uncle's final wish. Théodwyn and Éomund had been most content being left alone to love each other. Certain festivities were traditional, but beyond their duties, Éomer's parents had led a quite peaceful lifestyle – if you allowed orc-chasing and guard duty within the definition.

Aefwyn understood the importance of grand festivities to celebrate their new king, but liked them no better than her husband. After the demands the council had made to Éomer the previous day she was even more unwilling to go and be stared down by them.

Nevertheless, after eating a quick lunch she went into their rooms to prepare. It would not do for her to look like she had the past weeks. The Councilmen were judging her, talking to her husband about some nobly bred Gondor lady and telling him their baby was a bastard. She had to look her part tonight if she wanted to be queen.

Truth be told, she wasn't too thrilled about that, but there was little choice. She would endure having to lead people for her love, even if she'd rather stay in the background. The qualities that had made her a good maid weren't the makings of a good queen.

oOo

Éomer had wanted his coronation to be a subdued event due to the recent death of his uncle and many other good men. The feast was still rather raucous, because for Rohirrim a good party was a loud one. The actual coronation was rather like a footnote rather than the cause of the celebration, but the freshly-minted king didn't seem to mind. A narrow circled had been pressed upon Aefwyn's auburn locks as well, giving her officially the title of queen.

She retired early, tired from the noise and the baby kicking, but Éomer did not come to bed before she was asleep. Éowyn had walked back with her and they had parted at her door. The two women had talked during dinner for a good while, and both felt content after parting ways.

Next morning Aefwyn woke earlier than the last, and saw her husband had found the bed sometime during the night. Éomer was sleeping on his back with half his clothes on, and seeing the trail of clothes and boots from the door to the bed she knew he had been quite inebriated by the time he'd arrived. She pressed her head back on the pillow, content to watch her snoring husband for a while before starting her first day as queen.

* * *

><p>AN: Also, a big thank you to all new followers and thank you very much for the favorites too! ^^ In my times of doubt the notification emails cheer me up, and to know you guys want to hear how this'll end really wants to make me finish it. Too bad other people elsewhere want me to do other stuff, like work and pay my rent (and that my work takes up so much time and energy)...

Next time around you're gonna meet the baby ;) (That'll have to do for a cliffhanger this time.)


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Hello again! Whew, and I thought the chapters would get easier to write after I didn't have to check and re-check every date and fact to see if I'm still going canon (I have failed with that a couple of times undoubtedly). Yeah right. Well, without further ado:

* * *

><p>Éomer paced to and fro in the hallway before their rooms. Aefwyn had announced to him at the crack of dawn that he was to go fetch the midwife, his sister and to tell the kitchen to start boiling water. The latest of their fold had decided waiting was over.<p>

Once he had summoned the midwife and Éowyn he had found the door barred from the inside and sighed. To think of all the foals he'd helped into the world, he was still banned from the birth of his child. Certainly not as the first father ever, and certainly not the last, but he _knew_ what was going on behind his door. Would it really have been so bad for him to wait inside?

Then he heard Aefwyn scream. His wife had very healthy lungs, because the sound drowned out the midwife's encouragements – he had heard those too, but too indistinct to make out the words. At his next turn, Éowyn came out the room, not even looking at him, and hurried toward the kitchens.

"Nothing for you to do here, Éomer, go do some ruling." She quipped walking past him, her face intent.

"You pretty much did your job nine months ago!" came her last retort from around the corner. Éomer sighed and kept pacing. Like he could concentrate on something else at a time like this.

True enough, this wasn't their firstborn, but he liked to think all his children were equal to him, and since he'd done the pacing every time one of his children had been born and he'd been at Aldburg, he saw no reason not to do it now.

Éowyn looked at him again sternly as she returned, but didn't offer any more commentary as she re-entered the room. Few more tours down the corridor and back again, until he heard his child's first cry. In a few moments, Éowyn came out again, allowing him a glimpse of the midwife and his wife, the baby lying on her stomach held safe by her arms.

"Congratulations, brother, you have a son." Éowyn looked a bit distraught, for although she had seen horses foal she had never before attended on the birth of a child. Éomer hugged his sister, lifting her up and spinning her around once. After he set her back down, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks had pinked.

"Don't worry, Éowyn. You'll see, tomorrow she has already forgotten it ever hurt a bit." Although his words might have seemed a bit out of place, he felt the need to reassure his baby sister. He knew Éowyn had feared she would never marry, but now that she was betrothed she had started to worry about childbirth. Aefwyn had carried all her pregnancies with a quiet certainty, never once fearing for her own life or health, but Éowyn, despite her resolve and strength, seemed more concerned.

Ëowyn looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

"Well, I think you can go in now." With a smile, he pulled open the door and entered the room. Aefwyn looked tired and happy, her hair disheveled and face still a bit sweaty and reddened, but the bed was already laid with fresh sheets and the baby was wrapped in a soft cloth, nursing.

He didn't speak as he pulled a chair to the bedside, and Aefwyn was contented in shifting her gaze between her husband and the newborn. The midwife was wrapping up the tools of her trade and cleaning up the room at the same time, efficient in her movements. She was the one most women in Edoras turned to when their time had come, and now, having delivered a new prince she was glowing with silent satisfaction.

The midwife, Munhilde, was a woman in her late fifties, her dark hair in an efficient bun behind her head, a few hairs dusted already with silver. Her apprentice was also present, a girl yet rather than a woman, daughter of one of Théodred's Riders. The girl had assisted her teacher for a year or so already, and seemed as unfazed as Munhilde by the bloody sheets she was bundling to be cleaned.

"Well, if there was ever an easy birth, that was one, m'lady", she commented, closing the straps of her leather satchel.

"If there's too much bleeding, have someone call me, but since it's not your first and everything went so well I doubt there'll be anything to worry about." She nodded solemnly to the king and smiled for Aefwyn and took her leave with her apprentice in tow.

"Can I see him?" Éomer held his arms to receive the child, who looked sleepy now that it had finished eating. Aefwyn opened the cloth a bit and placed the small baby in his arms.

"He's a bit smaller than Éomund, but he came a bit too early where Éomund lingered a bit over his time. Munhilde says he'll catch up soon." Éomer assumed Aefwyn wished to reassure him that this miniature human was indeed fine and would grow to see old age. That spurred him to wonder whether his wife wasn't as sure about it as he suspected, but when he looked up at her eyes the worry vanished. She was just making up conversation, though a bit more clipped in her fatigue.

"Well, I see ten toes and fingers, and that indeed I have a second son. Seems to be another perfect baby." He wrapped the cloth around the boy once more and kissed his wife quickly.

"You think up a name. I'll go spread the happy news to my 'trusted' advisors."

oOo

At his study, the men eyed his suspiciously. His advisors weren't entirely pleased with his adamant refusal to even consider putting his wife aside. He had told them many times over the past few weeks that he would do no such thing; that his children had been born in wedlock; that his wife could not be capable of such harlotry they tried to besmirch her name with; and that she was nobly born enough as a daughter of a lord, even if the lord was known to be of mercurial nature and his only child a bastard.

He reminded them of Théoden's blessing upon their marriage, of the good stewardship Aefwyn had over Aldburg's finances, of the fact he was the king. He argued that if one took a look at his daughter Morwen they could see his grandmother and her namesake; that his good and trusted advisors had been present at their wedding and enjoyed the meat and mead in their honor afterwards.

Some of them looked less than sure now, but quite several, especially the older men who had initially disapproved with most ferocity, still seemed to hold their view. Éomer wasn't willing to remind them that they had let a baseborn man take over control not months earlier, that would put them at his opposition. Even if he was the king, his council held no small bit of power of their own as noblemen and men of wealth. He would use Gríma as a weapon though, if they insisted upon this folly.

"I shall not put aside my wife. You can forget that notion and put it aside. Let us instead focus on the logistics of the journey to Minas Tirith for King Elessar's wedding." He pulled a map out of the basket by his side, especially placed there for times he needed to have pre-prepared material on hand. To his knowledge, Théoden had had no such basket, but he preferred having unfinished business in one place and finished in another. It left the table they were gathered around less cluttered for one, and helped them concentrate better on the matter at hand.

"As you know my lady sister is to marry Lord Faramir, of the line of the Steward. Such as is her dowry will need transportation, as well as the possessions of my Queen. Let the nobles accompanying us worry for their own means of transport." He emphasized Aefwyn's position yet again by referring to her as his queen. The faces before him remained impassive. Had Théoden ever said his advisors were so difficult, or were they so only to him? Éomer knew Théodred had not liked these men overly much, especially not after they so easily let Gríma gain influence over them and Théoden.

The remainder of the meeting was held with slightly less hostility. Éomer made it a point not to appear overly difficult to them, though it was difficult, so against his wife as they now were. As they finally filed out of the library, he felt relieved more than well-counseled. He had to come up with a way to make them realize he was indeed their king, and as a king he accepted willingly their counsel, but that before king he was a husband and a father, and at those occupations he needed no advice – not from his councilmen at least.

At the hall he saw a throng of visitors just entering the hall, and to his shock he recognized Gaiwen, Aefwyn's aunt. Ceadric her father was nowhere to be seen, though, and Éomer felt a pang of sadness in his heart. He had taken Aefwyn to visit her father and aunt when they had been newly married and a few times after that, until the roads grew dangerous before the war. It had been three years now since their last visit, and Gaiwen had visibly aged during that time. She was a bit older than her brother, well into her fifties now, but her back was still straight. Her eyes were older, and she'd lost quite a bit of weight.

"Lady Gaiwen!" Her eyes shot up and a smiled played at her lips.

"Well, if it isn't my nephew! I see we truly did my niece a kindness." Her tone was playful, but the lingering advisors cast her way an ugly glance – which she thankfully didn't notice at all. She held out her hands and he took them, gripping them with her customary strength.

"Nay, it was me who received the greatest kindness." Gaiwen smiled, but then let her eyes circle the room.

"Where is Aefwyn?" She had noticed the councilmen, and the almost-festive atmosphere still hanging in the hall.

Assessing the older woman, Éomer turned slightly to point her at the correct direction.

"The best answer to my wife's whereabouts is revealed if you go down that corridor there. Last door on the right side." Gaiwen looked up at him, inquisitive.

"Indeed?" She still held his other hand and gave it a small squeeze before taking her leave.

Only after seeing Gaiwen off her remembered he had not asked about Ceadric. Although Aefwyn's father had spent quite a while of his life incapacitated by his melancholy spirit and broken heart, the revelation of his daughter had improved his condition remarkably.

Éomer glanced around himself, seeing the hall had emptied as the visitors' belongings had found their correct places and all was orderly again. He had barely been home a month, and soon he would have to ride again, to Minas Tirith, to leave one beloved behind and fetch home the remains of another. His heart felt at the same time happy and heavy as he thought of Éowyn staying behind. His sister had been a constant in his life since she had been born, and he had spent years in Edoras watching over her, before finding another constant, a missing piece of him. Indeed, he knew Éowyn deserved to have more than just nieces and nephews, she deserved babies of her own – but it was no less bittersweet to see her off knowing that.

And the other matter, of his uncle… He had cried, riding home, every night as he had laid huddled in his blankets. He had not so much grieved for his uncle then, but for the life that had died at that instant with him on Pelennor field. He had himself then and there lost his future as a free man; his future to live peacefully, perhaps ride with his éored to patrol the borders, for old times; his freedom to grow old with Aefwyn and watch their children grow and build a life of their own. Instead, he had been given a life punctuated by formalities, where his time with his wife was sometimes limited to sleeping next to her, or sitting next to her at dinner.

Now, though, now he was grieving for Théoden instead of his lost peaceful life. His grief of Théodred had been brief and drowned into a war now won. Théoden had died nearer to the end of it all, and his loss was momentous. It had needed time to brew, but now, standing in the hall alone, he was ready for it. He did not cry, but he could have been for all of it. His heart thundered in his ears, the world waved like in vertigo, his gut clenched and his lungs burned as if deprived of air. A soundless cry wrung his mouth agape and he pressed his palms against his face as the brutality of his loss suddenly sat upon his shoulders.

It had been easy for him to keep himself under control until he had been faced with the reality of his remains. He had been able to keep his unease to himself until he had been afforded a moment of solitude: indeed that must have been the answer. Éomer sat heavily down, spent by his sudden emotions. Yes, he had been surrounded by others all the time since the battle of Pelennor. And after his return he had placed the heavier notions to the back of his head, preferring to enjoy seeing his wife again.

He had gazed at the face of his infant son and seen his lost loved ones in the faces of his older children, and had put his sorrow for his uncle to the back of his head, to wait for a better moment. Yes, he reasoned, he did not want others to witness his hurt, not even Aefwyn, though his wife probably knew how much it hurt him.

The creak of a hinge was all the warning he got. Drawing himself from his morose thoughts he managed to get his face and demeanor back under control just as his father-in-law entered, smile on his narrow features.

* * *

><p>AN: I hadn't really planned this chapter like this at all, but I'm a sucker for punishment and let Éomer rob the show. Stupid, stupid me.

Also, if the ending feels a bit rushed, do forgive me. We're supposed to go spend Easter over at my folks and I'm supposed to be packing. I just could not leave you guys hanging for another immeasurable length of time. Until after this chapter... I mean... *wink* Well, I'll try my best with the next chapter, but as you all probably know by now it might take its sweet time. And the finishing line is not a cliffhanger. I really did try to come up with something better after 'father-in-law entered', but, Bema bless, they would all have required at least four more paragraphs and would have sucked anyway.

And, on a final note, big bunches of 'thank you's and basket-fulls of chocolate eggs for all my reviewers, followers and everyone who has favorited the story!


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Hello, hello! Another instalment for your enjoyment. Further A/N at the bottom, for now, enjoy.

* * *

><p>Éomer had feared their pace would be agonizingly slow because of the endless stretch of wagons and riders, but of course, as everyone was at least capable upon a horse and their mounts were the best there were, such fears proved unfound. They weren't moving fast, by any sense of the word, but faster than he had assumed seeing the nobles who were eager to travel with them to attend to King Elessar's wedding with the fabled elven beauty, Lady Arwen Evenstar.<p>

Her brothers had been a sight of their own, and everyone who had heard of their brief visit was eager to see a female of their kind, known in stories to be among the greatest treasures of her kind. Éomer wasn't one to curb his people; he was feeling a bit curious himself. Aefwyn was comely enough a woman, and he felt no need to let his eyes linger overly long on anyone else, but he had heard of Arwen from Aragorn during the war – and from Merry and Pippin the Hobbits, who had seen her in Rivendell – and he wanted to know whether it could really be true she was so perfect in appearance.

As a man of some learning – although he was no scholar – he knew the legends of Valar and Valinor, and thus he knew there was quite a bit he couldn't imagine. He had not been elsewhere but to the cities of Men, and while Minas Tirith had been impressive, he understood that the city of the Elves beyond the Sea was much greater a sight. To imagine what such could be was beyond his imagination, and be as it may, he was well content with Edoras and Meduseld.

Éomer glanced over his left shoulder towards the wagons where Aefwyn sat, their infant son in her arms, next to Éowyn who held the reins. Though little Elfwine was barely three weeks old, Aefwyn had deemed him robust enough to come along (though some part must have been played by her curiosity, he though wryly), thus allowing herself to travel.

Lady Arwen had arrived, escorted by her father and brothers, the day before last, and she had truly been a sight. Éomer personally found the perfect otherworldly beauty of the elven maiden slightly disconcerting. If the lady Arwen had once shown she knew how her appearance affected those around her it might have been a different matter altogether, but she seemed quite oblivious as to her image. She was riding right ahead, flanked by her brothers and her father Lord Elrond. Before them, at some distance, was a small contingent of elven warriors.

The respite in Edoras had been short, as the Lady had been anxious to ride and no one had had any viable reasons not to. Éowyn had had her trunks – that had been packed and repacked at least thrice – almost loaded as soon as the news of the arriving elves reached the Hall. Aefwyn, who knew most of his councilmen were planning on coming along to petition their cause to king Elessar, had been rather adamant about coming along, but had been willing to submit to his will if he wished her to stay behind. He'd had not the heart, and he knew she wanted to be able to defend herself against them to king Elessar if need be.

Indeed, the councilmen who'd tagged along were riding right after the royal wagon, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Right at their heels were the wagons driven by Gaiwen, currently holding at least two of his children. He knew Gaiwen listened to what she could of their discussions, now clued into the issue. The older lady had seen the situation immediately as Éomer did, and felt fiercely protective of her niece and their flock of children. The councilmen might not have realized they were eavesdropped, but Éomer saw Morwen's fierce gray stare from behind her great-aunt and knew that anything Gaiwen might have missed, Morwen would not.

He did not know how, but Morwen too seemed to know her mother was not as beloved as one might have thought from the reactions of the common people. Indeed, those of common birth loved their new queen with gentle affection: her ministrations during the war had spared them from some suffering, as dire as the situation had been. The nobility had more mixed feelings.

After finding out of his councilmen's opinions he had conducted a wider poll of opinion among the higher ranks of Rohirrim society. The younger lords and ladies, though not all of them, were more receptive, and among the older nobility, those who had married beneath themselves were also more positive. The oldest families with strictest opinions were also the ones in his council, though a few younger men were of lesser families and with laxer opinions were included. He had not realized his uncle had been advised by such unbending minds. What advancements could have been made to Rohan's improvement, were these men not so intent on curbing every new idea?

Gaiwen and Ceadric came from a long and respected line of ancestors, but they were of little significance in current politics of his realm. Although Ceadric could currently function pretty much like a normal man, he was susceptible to severe bouts of melancholia that still sometimes left him bedridden for a few days and melancholy and disinterested for a week or so afterwards. The sadness in his eyes was almost too much for others to bear, and happiness came to his features only with his little family. Ceadric might have had sway upon the opinions of his peers were he not so frail of mind and thus more a laughingstock than a man to be taken seriously. Éomer was ashamed of the thought – he liked his father-in-law well – but that was the way most of his people would have thought. It was not for a man to lose his wits over a woman, and only a lady's maid at that.

With a sigh he attempted to put the morose thoughts out of his head. It was to be a pleasant, joyous journey, to take a bride to her future husband; why was he so troubled by his thoughts? Was he not the king, able to do as he pleased?

He turned again, but Aefwyn had gone inside the wagon. Éowyn seemed quite as lost in thought as he was, but there was a smile on her lips in sign of happier movements of mind. Éomer had liked Faramir as well, despite his initial dislike. That dislike had faded soon, after he had studied it and realized he was jealous of his sister, of the fact that there was someone else she now loved better (which was of course only natural and right, but how could he help it when she had been all he had for quite a number of years?); and also when he had got to know the man better. Faramir was a sensible man and clearly cared so deeply for his sister he wouldn't have had the heart to tell her no.

oOo

Aefwyn scampered toward the front of the wagon as she heard Éowyn call her name. Elfwine and Éohild were asleep, lulled to slumber by the steady roll of the wagon's wheels. Morwen and Éomund were with their great-aunt, on the next wagon behind her. Éomer was riding, obviously, somewhere along the column, unwilling to restrict himself to the closed confines and slow pace of the wagon. And indeed, she thought smiling, what kind of a king of the Horse-Lords would ride in a wagon instead upon a steed of living, breathing flesh?

Not the kind she was married to, for sure.

She reached the driver's bench and her breath caught in her throat. The White City loomed ahead of them, the road plunging down to meet the valley floor below before winding towards the gates. She could see the walls on the fields of Pelennor, in disrepair but being fixed in places, new and gleaming white in others. The city rose over the vast river valley, built on the side of a mountain so that it seemed to rise as high as the peaks of the White Mountains, white and graceful.

Éowyn had pulled in the reins to allow her to take in the sight of the city, and now she encouraged them on again.

"'Tis a sight, is it not?" She smiled as Aefwyn sat next to her, still wide-eyed and her mouth slightly agape.

"Oh indeed, Éowyn. No word could make it justice." She didn't say it, but comparing the white wonder ahead with Edoras made her fully understand why the nobles there thought they could look down on Éowyn. They would surely look down upon her too, no matter the new gown s sewn from silks and brocades Éomer had brought with him from Gondor when he returned from the war; no matter the intricate gold and silver crown Éomer had had made for her in addition to all the old crown jewels.

They continued on, Aefwyn seemingly staring the city ahead in awe. Her mind, however, was suddenly focused on a matter she had tried very hard to forget for the past weeks. She had tried very hard to focus on her newborn son and to forget the scheming councilmen. Her immediate family was around her and she should have felt safe and secure, but she did not. She had tried to put aside her fear of inadequateness, her fear of failing in the role she suddenly found herself.

When Théoden King had made Éomer his heir, the throne had seemed a distant and faraway thing, for Théoden despite his advancing years had been so invigorated after being freed of the spell of Saruman. It had not even seemed possible when she had married her sweet lord, her rock in this tumultuous place her peaceful existence had morphed into. It had not been possible then, and the thought had never crossed her mind. Now Théoden King was dead, Théodred was dead. And her husband was most definitely now king, legitimate and uncontested.

And that made her his queen.

Such were the winds of fortune that a bastard girl who had never dreamed of even knowing her father's name was now a queen. Her daughters and sons had become princes and princesses, and one day one of them, most likely Éomund, would rule over Rohan as king. And Morwen and Éohild would marry high lords and mother trueborn children, who would be considered blood royal. The thought of Morwen acquiescing to marry some lord she and Éomer would choose for her and mothering children almost made her chuckle out loud.

Never would her eldest submit to a spouse chosen by none other than herself. Clearly, one day Aefwyn would be redeemed from her spot in the questionable attention by her own willful daughter. By then, hopefully, times would be different, and Morwen would have to suffer none of the unpleasant attention she was now subject to. And, even more hopefully, the entire situation would be avoided by Morwen choosing a suitable young man.

She sighed, causing Éowyn to glance at her, at the mother hen she had become. As a queen, or even as a lady, she had to give these matters thought, as little as she wished to interfere. When she had been growing up she had witnessed many a serving maid at Aldburg fall in love, pledge their troth and enter marriage, but never had it been to them a matter of dispute or quarrel.

So, for power and wealth the noble folk gave away their freedom of choice? And the common folk toiled on the fields and in their halls but had the freedom to happiness? Was this really how it needed to be for everything to be in its rightful and correct place?

Aefwyn shook her head. Nay, she would much prefer her children cause great upheaval and breaking of old habits than bind themselves to a marriage of little love and plenty of wealth. She knew Éomer felt the same way. He couldn't understand how the one man who supposedly had all the power could be so powerless in regards of his choice of spouse. And frankly, neither did Aefwyn.

She could very well understand that she didn't look very queenly (four pregnancies had left their marks on her figure, and the correct term was 'homely'), nor did she have an inkling as to how a queen behaved. She had no wealthy family to back her, and there was the matter of her illegitimate birth, which was a great no-no for queens, apparently. Having listed all her features that were unsuitable for queendom, she could understand perfectly why the Council wanted to replace her with this Lothíriel of Dol Amroth (who was of course extremely legitimate by birth, of noble stock and honorable repute, childless and most important, beautiful – in short, all she was not).

She could not understand, however, was how her children could be legitimate heirs to Aldburg one day, but no longer their father's legitimate heirs after he came by a kingdom. Surely they were no less Éomer's now than they had been last autumn?

Aefwyn had developed a headache from trying to mull over a logic that seemed to have none. But clearly to the councilmen it had plenty of merit. _This must have been the reason I avoided this subject_, she thought bitterly. _There's nothing to see here but a recipe for headache_.

She gathered again her resolve to speak with King Elessar as soon as she could. The councilmen would undoubtedly try the same, but she had to just try and be faster. She had briefly met Lord Aragorn before he had become king, and he seemed to think well of her. She wasn't certain, for Lord Aragorn wasn't one to wear his feelings on his sleeve, but at least the man had not regarded her with the same distaste as some of the councilmen now did.

oOo

King Elessar looked like a mighty man, but a mighty man in love, as he greeted the elves (Arwen having been whisked away before the formal greetings as she was not to see Aragorn until the day of the wedding). He looked very different and yet none from the man he had been at Dunharrow, haunted and gaunt. Now he was well-groomed and dressed in samite and fur instead of his brown woodsman's leathers.

Aefwyn could still see that the Ranger was there behind the guise of King, although the King must have already been present when she met him. Lord Elrond was holding the king in an embrace, speaking with him in Sindarin. Éomer and Aefwyn were standing behind the elves waiting for their turn, Éowyn yet behind them. She and Faramir - who was standing a bit behind the king to his right – were quite openly staring at each other, quite likely paying very little attention to anything else.

Aefwyn wrung her hands together inside her oversized sleeves. She had objected to the design when Éowyn had sketched it out for the seamstress, but Éowyn had soon convinced the seamstress that this was the latest fashion in Gondor. From there it had been a losing battle for Aefwyn, who would have preferred gowns cut in similar fashion as her Rohirrim clothes. Now she was happy the sleeves hid her nervously twitching fingers.

Éomer seemed calm beside her, but she could see her husband's jaw was tense and his brows were ever so slightly drawn towards each other. This was a tempered version of the irritated scowl he had been often seen wearing in Edoras after the Council had given him their suggestion. As she turned her head back towards the King and the half-elven lord, she noticed Aragorn also looking at her husband, as if trying to scry the reason behind such somber façade. He turned his gaze back to Lord Elrond after a few moments.

Elladan and Elrohir gave the king only a brief greeting after leading the elven guard to their assigned quarters within. Then it was the turn for Rohan's royalty, and Aefwyn took Éomers offered arm as they approached the heir of Isildur.

"King Elessar, greetings and congratulations", Éomer offered as he moved to give the king an embrace as amicably returned as given.

"King Éomer. And my lady Aefwyn." After releasing his hold on Éomer the king stepped to her to grip her fingers and to kiss her cheek in a formal fashion.

"Your Highness." Aefwyn found her voice after returning the King's greeting. She could hardly concentrate on what Éomer said to Aragorn, so nervous she suddenly found herself. Her husband was speaking to the former ranger in hushed tones, to which the king replied in kind. After this subtle exchange Éomer looked behind him and beckoned for Éowyn.

"As per tradition, I have brought my sister to join lady Arwen as her lady in waiting before her marriage to lord Faramir." Éowyn smiled brightly to the man she had once thought she loved, before learning his heart already belonged to another. Now her smile was in no way inviting, but radiating the happiness she had found. Aefwyn saw that she no longer held any emotion for Aragorn except for respect and friendship, and was pleased.

"I am sure it shall be no long wait." Aragorn muttered so quiet only the small party around him heard, obviously including lord Faramir who chuckled.

"We shall speak of your matter more on the morrow, Éomer, and I hope to see you at the welcoming feast that is being prepared."

After being so dismissed, Éomer led his entourage to the quarters the Rohirrim had occupied after the battle of Pelennor and while recuperating from the Battle at the Black Gates. Gaiwen and Ceadric took a liking to a small suite with two bedrooms, the councilmen all took lodgings along the same hallway and Éomer and Aefwyn found their way to the same spacious suite Éomer had been given during his previous stay.

Éomer went off to see the horses, not trusting the stable boys of Minas Tirith to be able to handle Rohirrim steeds, and to greet Firefoot. Morwen was too old for afternoon naps, but the three younger children were soon asleep in the second bedroom, tired from the early rise and the waiting at the courtyard. Morwen had insisted on visiting Gaiwen before dinner.

This left Aefwyn alone in her suite, too nervous for sleep but not wanting quite yet to start dressing for dinner. She had never quite understood the noble ladies who spent all their hours deciding what to wear and how to fix their hair. There had been few noble ladies in Edoras when she had been a servant there who had changed their clothes three or four times a day, requiring the services of at least one maid for the entire day. This had infuriated Odwyn, but she had been unable to help it, common born as she was, and only a servant. It was not that Odwyn resented serving the noble ladies, she just thought that her workforce had more pressing matters to attend to.

The memory made her chuckle. She wondered whether Marigold would be happier to be given her tasks solely by Aefwyn or if she preferred doing other chores as well besides the queen's bidding. Undoubtedly, knowing Odwyn's prickly nature, the girl might be happier if Aefwyn came up with more chores for her.

For now, however, no servant had shown themselves, and with a contented sigh Aefwyn went to unpack their clothes. It had been one of her favorite tasks as a maid (infinitely preferred to sweeping floors or scrubbing kettles), and she felt a little pang of disappointment every time a servant beat her to the task, even now.

The Gondorian nobles, the Council and dinner were all yet far away, no need for worry.

* * *

><p>AN: First off, thank you yet again for all the follows and favorites, they are a balm to my writer's soul. Borys: I've been looking forward to getting a chance to write them back in. Lessee how big a role they want to take in these final chapters. (Not many to go, though I'm not so sure at the moment how many exactly I need.)

Second point, I really wished to offer a bit of an explanation as to why a fic I mentioned I'll be finishing like six months ago is still unfinished. Last March I finally went to a MRI because my wrist was so sore I couldn't work. Before that it had been bad on and off for over a year, I've been to see so many doctors you wouldn't believe. But I digress: I went with the MRI results to see a hand surgeon, and she just bluntly told me she had never seen a wrist as bad except with professional gymnasts. I have bruising on every bone in my wrist, infection on almost every tendon in my hand and a ruptured tendon in my wrist.

As if this wasn't enough, my boss says they have no more work for me to do after my part time sick leave and my summer vacation. They are practically trying to get me resign (which they have no right to do, and they can't fire me because of my medical condition alone), which would wreck me and my husband economically. I cannot afford to lose my job, but they refuse absolutely to even discuss any alternate tasks for me (although I know, my boss knows and their expensive consult knows that there IS stuff I could do).

It's been pretty difficult for me, and because my wrist has been so painful I haven't even been able to write except for very limited amounts of time at one sitting. I've been mulling the story (and some others) in my head, so I have plenty of ideas as to where to take this fic in the end and more importantly, HOW. I hope you understand that it might take me a while to finish at the pace I'm currently able to write at. I will finish this though, even if I have to type it with my left hand only.

Until next time!


End file.
